


Quill-It

by Celandine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Bondage, Character Death, Cock Rings, Community: quill_it, Crossdressing, Crossover, Dom/sub, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drama, Ethics, Exhibitionism, F/M, Family, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Holidays, Ice Play, Infidelity, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Paddling, Pre-Slash, Rimming, Romance, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, Watersports, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-23
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 16:55:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 101
Words: 46,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/227477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celandine/pseuds/Celandine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles, ficlets, and fics written for the quill-it community on LJ. Harry was my subject and I worked from a prompt table of 100 words to write these. Pairing (if any) is noted in the notes for each chapter. Most chapters are general in rating, but a few are adult and are so noted in the notes. Likewise the warnings apply only to a handful of chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Greenhouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war, Harry finds Neville's suggestion to be a relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry gen, although you could read it as Harry/Neville preslash if you squint. Prompt 69, "quiet".

Harry clenches a fistful of dirt and lets it crumble back, rich and dark and ever so slightly pungent with dragon dung.

"I think it's ready."

Neville nods. "Yes."

The greenhouse is quiet except for the faint sounds of their trowels make and the rustling of a Venomous Tentacula in the corner. Harry lets out a deep contented sigh. After seven years of Voldemort, this is what he needs. He's grateful to Neville for the suggestion.

When they have finished planting the bed, Neville runs his hand lightly over it. "Good job, Harry."

They look at each other, and smile.


	2. Turn On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just looking at Draco's hands invariably turns Harry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry. Prompt 16, "hands".

Just looking at Draco's hands invariably turns Harry on.

Not that Draco doesn't have plenty of other physical charms, but seeing him flourish a wand or scribble a note or even simply turn the page of the newspaper makes Harry want to have those hands touching him instead.

The long-fingered elegance of their appearance is nothing beside the skillful way Draco uses them in bed, however. Draco adores teasing and caressing Harry, leading him to the heights of passion, making him beg for more, soothing him in the languid aftermath.

Harry takes Draco's hand and sucks one fingertip in invitation.


	3. Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry watches Remus and Sirius together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remus/Sirius, unrequited Harry/Sirius. Prompt 50, "possessive".

When he saw Sirius again, Harry intended to rush over and hug him. He was stopped not so much by Molly Weasley's restraining hand as by the sight of Remus standing behind Sirius. Something about the angle of Remus's body, the tilt of Sirius's head, made Harry feel as though he had taken a Bludger to the stomach.

Surreptitiously he watched them over the following days. Ron might not have believed it, but Harry was certain: Sirius and Remus were lovers. And, he concluded gloomily, they probably had been since many years back, long before Sirius had been incarcerated. They acted too much like an old married couple for their relationship to be new.

His initial shock wore off, but it took a while to figure out how he felt. He had hoped that if he ever had the chance to stay with Sirius, his godfather would give him some of the attention and affection that he'd never had from the Dursleys, but between Order business and Remus, that wasn't happening. On the other hand, he had some idea of how awful Sirius's life had been for the past fourteen years. Harry felt obliged to be glad for Sirius's sake that he had someone to turn to now; Harry just wished that _he_ could be the one to give that support.

Seeing Sirius and Remus together, Harry finally realized that he fancied his godfather. He tried to feel guilty about it -- Sirius _was_ old enough to be his father, after all -- but he hadn't even met the man until a little over a year ago. "Godfather" was just a word, not a real relationship. He couldn't really feel like a godson. Harry did feel guilty for wishing that Remus were somehow out of the way, because he liked Remus as well. He just wished it wasn't Sirius who put the smile on Remus's face.

All things considered, Harry was glad when summer ended and he could go back to school. At Hogwarts he wouldn't have to hide his jealousy each time that Sirius touched Remus instead of him.


	4. Breaking Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It may be friendship, but it's not love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ginny/Harry. Prompt 83, "simple".

"I'm not _simple_ , Harry. You don't really love me."

"Of course I do," Harry protested.

Ginny shook her head. "You love the _idea_ of me, I think; of being part of my family, of having a girlfriend, I don't know. But not me, Ginny, this girl in front of you."

"Maybe you're right." Harry looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Better to be honest about it now than later," she said, biting her lip. "Maybe I love _you_ more for what you are than who you are, too."

Harry held out his hand to her, and they met in an awkward embrace.


	5. Memorial Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry speaks at the ceremony unveiling the memorial to the fallen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry. Prompt 72, "waste".

Harry had been dreading this day. Not the _fact_ of it so much -- he'd come to terms with the necessity for some kind of a memorial -- but that he would have to give a speech. He had worked on it for weeks, and now held the parchment on which it was written, but he wasn't satisfied with what he planned to say.

He drifted along with the crowd walking through the Hogwarts grounds toward the site of the memorial stone. Ahead of him he overheard a pair of middle-aged witches bemoaning the waste of the battle, the damage to the castle, and most of all the deaths of its defenders.

The parchment in Harry's hand crackled as he gripped it more tightly.

"Where have you been, Potter?" demanded Professor McGonagall in a loud whisper as he arrived at the wooden stand that had been erected for the occasion. She reached as if she were going to straighten his robes or perhaps even smooth down his hair, but Harry stepped back.

"Just looking around a bit. You've done wonders in repairing everything," he said.

Her face softened fractionally. "Thank you. Now, take your seat. It's nearly time to start."

Harry was scheduled to be the third speaker. He gazed out over the crowd as first Minister Shacklebolt and then Headmistress McGonagall spoke. He saw Ron and Hermione near the front, smiling at him sympathetically. They knew how much he disliked the idea of giving a speech.

Scattered around were other faces Harry recognised, mostly former classmates, with a few professors and other older wizards.

At the conclusion of the applause for McGonagall, Harry rose and stepped to the lectern, smoothing out the crumpled piece parchment on its surface. He glanced down at it and shook his head. Looking up again he saw Hermione pointing at her throat and mouthing something. Oh yes. He hastily took his wand and cast the Sonorous charm.

" I had a speech prepared for you today," he said, slightly astonished by the volume of his voice and the way the crowd quieted to hear him, "but I don't think I want to read it to you now. As I was coming in, I heard someone say what a shame it was that there was any need to put up this memorial, what a waste of lives the battle had been. I don't believe the lives of any of those we are honouring today were wasted. Everyone who resisted Voldemort and his Death Eaters, to any extent, risked death. We all knew it, and we went ahead anyhow, because even death was better than the prospect of life in a world ruled by that foul madman.

"It is tragic that those who died fighting had no chance to enjoy what they fought to preserve, but their sacrifice was not a waste. I thank you all for coming today to show the honour and respect we all feel for them. "

Harry stopped. He was beginning to turn to look at McGonagall and see if he should sit down, or what, when the applause crashed over him. Half the audience was already on their feet, and the rest were rising as he watched. Hermione and Ron clapped frantically, and tears were running down Hermione's cheeks. Harry ended the Sonorous charm and bowed a little awkwardly to the crowd.

Sitting back down, he waited without paying much attention to the remainder of the ceremony, until with a flourish Hagrid removed the cloth that had been draped over the polished stone, letting the names carved on it be seen. All too many of them were familiar. Harry had meant every word he said earlier, yet grief lashed him again as if it were new.


	6. Waking Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius's nightmares confuse him, but Harry doesn't mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chan (Harry is 15) but there is no more than an embrace. Prompt 35, "sleep".

"I suppose the poor man didn't get much real sleep all those years in Azkaban, but goodness." Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "Harry, dear, would you take Sirius this cup of tea and wake him up?"

"Sure." Harry shoved the last bite of bacon in his mouth and picked up the tray Mrs. Weasley had laid out.

"We'll be clearing out in the library this morning," she called after him.

"I'll find you," shouted Harry back as he started up the stairs.

As he neared Sirius's room, he heard a voice speaking, as though Sirius might already be awake and talking with someone. Harry tapped at the door. "Sirius?"

There was no answer, but the mumbling continued even after Harry knocked a second time. He turned the knob cautiously and stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him.

In the dim light that filtered through the curtains he could see Sirius thrashing restlessly. The sheets were tangled around him. It was quite evident that he was suffering through a nightmare. Harry found a place on a chest of drawers to set down the tray, and crossed to the bed.

"Sirius?" He bent to touch Sirius's shoulder. He could see a scattering of coarse black hairs on the sheets, and wondered if Sirius often slept as Padfoot. Had he shifted form overnight without intending to? "Sirius, are you all right?"

Suddenly Harry's wrist was seized. "Prongs? Fuck, such a horrible nightmare. Come here."

Before Harry quite knew what was happening Sirius had pulled him down into a tight embrace. He could feel Sirius shaking as their bodies pressed together.

"Erm, Sirius? It's Harry, not James," Harry managed to say. Sirius's closeness had sent a thrill through him, but he wasn't sure Sirius knew what he was doing.

"Harry?" Sirius's eyes opened properly, and he nearly fell off the far side of the bed moving away. "Merlin's teeth, Harry. I thought you were your dad. I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."

"It's all right," Harry interrupted. "You were asleep. Mrs. Weasley sent me up with tea."

He got up and fetched the tray to Sirius, who was now sitting against the pillows, the covers pulled up around him.

"I guess you and my dad were really close friends, weren't you?"

"Yes, Harry, we were." Sirius took a drink of his tea, his eyes intent on Harry over the rim of the cup.

Harry felt compelled to add, " _More_ than just friends?"

Sirius blinked at that, but lowered the cup to answer steadily, "At one time, yes. Then he fell in love with your mother. He and I remained friends though."

"I see." Slowly, keeping his gaze on Sirius, Harry sat on the bed again and scooted closer. "I guess I'm even more like my dad than I thought... or maybe more like you."

He leaned against Sirius's shoulder and pressed his face to the bare skin of Sirius's neck. After a moment, he felt Sirius's arm go around him.

"Perhaps so," Sirius said.


	7. Old Friends, New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione have a standing date, as friends, for Sunday dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Hermione. Prompt 88, "lonely".

"Seven months," said Harry thoughtfully as he watched Hermione turn over a chop in the pan.

It was her week to cook. They had a standing date for Sunday dinner, and alternated whose flat they used. Whoever hosted cooked; the other brought a bottle of wine.

" _Eight_ months," Hermione shot back. A spatter of fat caught her wrist and she winced.

"Turn the heat down and put the lid on," Harry suggested.

That was the nice thing about Hermione. Harry didn't have to explain that he was thinking about how long it had been since he and Ginny had split up; she understood, and reminded him that Ron had left her before that.

"Good idea."

With the chops in their skillet and saucepans of potatoes and sprouts bubbling away, Hermione came and sat with Harry at the kitchen table. He passed her a glass of wine, watching as she sipped from it and caught a stray drop with her tongue.

"Ron must've been mental," Harry said.

"For leaving?" Hermione gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I don't know if I'd say that. It just wasn't working between us. At least I was able to keep the flat."

She checked on the food and served them each a plate. They exchanged Ministry gossip during dinner. Harry was in the final stages of Auror training, which took him away from the Ministry proper most of the time, but Hermione usually knew what was going on. She was in a good mood that week since there seemed to have been real progress made on the issue of house-elf rights. Harry didn't care quite as deeply as she did, but he was pleased both for her sake and in memory of Dobby.

When they had finished he helped to clear up. They refilled their wineglasses and took them into Hermione's living room. She kicked off her shoes and curled up at one end of the sofa; Harry sat in the middle and drank a large gulp of his wine, for courage.

He had thought a lot about what wanted to say tonight. In fact, he had planned out an entire short speech, but when he'd read it over, it sounded horrible and stilted. Now that it came down to it, a speech didn't seem like the right approach at all.

"Hermione..." Harry held out his hand.

She sat down her glass to take it. "What is it, Harry?"

He pulled her gently toward him and leaned forward into a kiss.

When they broke apart, Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide and uncertain. "Harry..."

Harry touched his fingertips to her lips. He had considered this for a long time. It wasn't because he was lonely for Ginny, but because he had realised that Hermione meant more to him than anyone else. She had been his staunch friend since their first year together at school. He had always been comfortable with her, and at last he finally recognised that it was more than friendship he felt. He only hoped that her feelings were similar.

He didn't need to rush matters; knowing Hermione, she would want to talk through every possible angle before things went any further. For now Harry was content just to feel her arms around him.


	8. Taking a Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry intrudes on Percy's lunch to ask a question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Percy preslash. Prompt 60, "blue".

"Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full," said Harry, remembering how all those years ago Ron had asked him the same question.

Blue eyes met green, and blinked.

"If you like," said Percy.

It wasn't _quite_ true that the only empty seat in the canteen was at Percy's table, but near enough. The rest were at tables occupied by wizards and witches Harry didn't know. Besides, he had reasons to want to talk with Percy.

Percy, however, appeared to be intent on the report he was reading, and Harry didn't like to interrupt him. He bit into a sausage roll and chewed, hoping that Percy would put down the parchment eventually.

At last he did, but only to fork up a final bite of salad and gulp the last of his water.

"Good to see you, Harry," he said, beginning to rise.

"Er, Percy?" This was Harry's chance. He just hoped that George hadn't been having him on about Percy's proclivities. It would embarrass them both.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to go out with me this weekend?"

Percy turned pink. "I... well... all right, yes."

Harry smiled, relieved. "I'll pick you up at seven on Friday."


	9. Taking Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry flies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Molly. Prompt 66, "clouds".

Harry soared.

There was nothing to touch this, nothing. The wind rushed past, tangling his hair beyond its usual messiness. Harry gripped the broom handle and shouted aloud with sheer exhilaration.

He tried to fly each weekend; it was what allowed him to endure the pressures of Auror training. Harry squinted against the sun, swooping and diving and rolling, joy thrilling through him.

The Weasleys had invited him to dinner that day. When he arrived, damp and a little late, Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, "Goodness, Harry, where have you been?"

Harry smiled at her. "I had my head in the clouds."


	10. No More Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's tired of living with the lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry. Prompt 18, "lies".

"I'm tired of the lies, Draco." Harry bowed his head. "Usually only by omission, but they're still lies."

With a pang Draco saw silver strands among the dark, more of them than he remembered.

"I thought you didn't want to hurt your family?"

"I've begun to think that telling the truth would hurt everyone less than all the evasion. I'm sure Ginny suspects; it she ever asks outright she'll be hurt as much by the fact that I've been lying to her, by omission if nothing else, as by my being unfaithful. As for the kids, well, I don't want them to think that it's okay to cheat on a partner. When I thought that this between you and me was just an affair, that it wouldn't last long -- that was one thing. But we've agreed we both want to be together in a way that isn't possible under the present circumstances. Asteria may not care that you live apart from her, but that isn't an option for me."

Draco winced. He had seen this moment coming, but that didn't make it any easier. While it was true that he had long since agreed with Asteria that they would be happier leading separate lives, they had both always been very discreet about it. If Harry left Ginny, the relationship between Harry and Draco was bound to become public, and very likely a scandal. Rita Skeeter would see to that.

On the other hand, Draco couldn't imagine a life without Harry any longer.

"Come here." He held Harry tightly. "I can see that letting things go on as they have been isn't an option for you anymore. When did you want to tell Ginny?"

"I don't know. It isn't as though there will ever be a _good_ time to explain that I'm in love with someone else and want a divorce, so I suppose sooner rather than later. The summer holidays are less than a month away; maybe I'll see if the kids can go to their Weasley grandparents for a fortnight and tell her then. No, that's silly. I can just as well talk to Ginny before they're out of school. If she's really upset, she can go to stay with her parents, and if need be the kids could join her there."

"Would you keep the house, then?" asked Draco.

"I don't know. Sirius left it to me, but..." Harry shook his head. "I suppose that will be something else we'll have to talk about. Damn. It's going to be awfully difficult, isn't it?"

"I suspect so. You don't _have_ to go through with telling her, you know. I'm content to carry on as we've been doing. Perhaps you should think about it a little longer before you make up your mind," Draco said, stroking Harry's back. "If you decide this is the right thing to do, I'll support you, but once you've told Ginny about us, there'll be no going back."

"I know." Harry sighed. "Take me to bed, Draco. Remind me why I love you so much that I'm destroying my family for you."

"And here I thought you loved me for my mind," Draco said.

"I do. Bad joke, sorry. Sex with you _is_ fantastic, but if it were just about the sex, this affair wouldn't have lasted more than three months." Harry kissed him.

He was right; the conversations they were able to have together were more seductive, and more long-lasting, than sex could ever be. Draco kissed Harry back.

"Agreed. But I'm going to take you to bed and wear you out anyhow."


	11. Fresh Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has promised to return Draco's wand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry preslash. Prompt 93, "borrow".

Draco looked around nervously. This was Muggle territory, and it made him uncomfortable, but he had had no choice -- he had been told where to go. He fingered the parchment in his pocket. There was no need to pull it out. He had reread it so many times in the past week that he had memorized every word.

 _Draco,_

 _I "borrowed" something of yours some time ago. I know you want it back, and I'm willing to return it to you. Meet me by the statue of Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens, London, at 4.30 in the afternoon next Saturday._

 _Harry_

Shifting position on the bench, Draco felt for the wand in his other pocket. It was his mother's. His own, to Draco's relief, Harry evidently planned to return. He had considered purchasing a new one, but Ollivander had not yet reopened his shop -- if he ever would was an open question still -- and Draco really preferred to get back his own familiar one, if he could.

"Draco."

Distracted by his thoughts, Draco hadn't seen Harry arrive.

"Harry." Draco nodded toward the bronze statue. "Some Muggle hero?"

Chuckling, Harry shook his head. "No, he's a boy in a Muggle story for children; 'the boy who wouldn't grow up'. He's magical in a way, although not our kind of magic. It seemed appropriate."

Draco nodded, trying not to look too eager as he changed the subject to what they were really there for. "You were going to return my wand? I need to be going; I have other plans this evening."

"I doubt it." Harry gave him a considering look. "Don't worry, I'll give it back, but I wanted to talk with you first. Can I buy you a coffee or an ice cream or something?"

Draco didn't much like the idea of being under obligation to Harry for even so much as an ice cream. On the other hand, Harry _had_ saved his life in the Room of Requirement, and that was a considerably greater debt.

"All right."

"There's a café that way." Harry pointed west.

Their sweets secured, they wandered until they found a shady spot with an unoccupied bench. Draco took a bite of his ice cream. It wasn't bad.

"You wanted to talk with me about something? What?"

Harry squinted at him. "What do you think?"

"I have no idea."

"You never answered when I asked in the Room of Requirement why you didn't identify me to Bellatrix. You _must_ have known it was me; the jinx that Hermione cast on my face didn't alter my appearance so much that someone who already knew me wouldn't recognize me. Both your aunt and your father were urging you to say that it was me, and they were quite right that Voldemort would have been delighted to get his hands on me so easily. So why did you hold back?"

"I... I don't know," said Draco.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"I _don't_ ," Draco protested.

"I don't believe you," said Harry flatly. "You had every reason to tell them who I was, and yet you didn't, so you must have had a reason _not_ to. What was it?"

Draco chewed his lower lip. He could see the outline of his wand in Harry's pocket. "I didn't want you to die," he muttered at last.

"So that's it." Harry's voice was soft, understanding, not sneering at all. "I saw how after you'd disarmed Dumbledore, you were lowering your wand. You didn't want to kill him either."

"You saw that?" Draco was amazed. "How?"

"He had taken me off the grounds that night, and we had just Apparated back. He knew you were coming, I guess, and he made me promise to stay out of sight and do nothing, no matter what happened."

Harry's eyes looked greener than ever, and Draco realized he was on the verge of tears.

"It was the hardest thing I've ever done, to just stand there and watch and do _nothing_. Far harder than fighting Voldemort was."

Draco nodded. "It wasn't quite the same with Dumbledore as with you, though. With him, I was supposed to kill him myself. With you, I wouldn't have been directly responsible. But..." He gnawed his lip again. "This isn't going to make any sense."

"What?"

"I just _couldn't_ say anything about who you were. Even thinking about it made my throat seize up. It was almost as if there were some protective charm at work, but I don't see how there could have been."

"No, you're right, it doesn't make any sense," agreed Harry. He rested his hand on his leg, where the outline of Draco's wand showed. "Thank you for explaining, though. If you had identified me, and Voldemort had been summoned and arrived right away… well, I wouldn't be here now. I felt badly, taking your wand after you'd done that, but I had no choice. I would just give it back to you, but since I originally took it by disarming you, I'm not sure it will be properly yours again if you don't take it from me the same way. We can't do that here, though."

"No, certainly not." Draco looked around at the hundreds of Muggles strolling through the park. "Where?"

"We'll find a spot. Come with me."

They walked for a quarter of an hour, not saying much, until Harry ducked down a tiny alleyway.

"Here." Harry pulled out Draco's wand. "Come on, take it. If you use _Expelliarmus_ I'm sure that will make it yours again."

Draco took out his mother's wand. He hesitated. "Do you have another wand you can use? The Elder wand, maybe?"

"I don't use that." Harry's expression became closed off.

"That sounds like a no to me." Draco hesitated a moment longer, and with some regret, shook his head. "I'll wait until it won't leave you wandless, too."

"That could be months," Harry reminded him. "There's no saying when Ollivander might be back in business."

"I know." Draco took a deep breath. "You'd do the same for me, though."

"I suppose I would." Harry tilted his head and looked at Draco consideringly. "But _you_ needn't. I mended mine -- I wouldn't be wandless. So go on, take yours."

"Really?" Quicker than thought, Draco cried, " _Expelliarmus_!"

The hawthorn and unicorn hair wand had never felt so right in his hand. Draco found himself smiling at Harry, a genuine smile. "Thank you, Harry. I'll tell you what. How about if we pretend that we never spent all those years hating each other, and start fresh today?"

He tucked both his own wand and his mother's away and put out his hand. Harry took it.

"All right."

Together they walked out of the alley and into the sunlit street.


	12. Dance Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wants to relieve Hermione's sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Hermione. Prompt 87, "rhythm". Filmverse; title taken from the Roxy Music song of the same name.

Harry wasn't sure what to do now. Hermione was obviously miserable, which he understood because he missed Ron too, but he was terrified that she might also leave.

Harry didn't know the song on the wizarding wireless -- he never knew any of them -- but it had an infectious rhythm. On impulse he held out his hands. Hermione was reluctant, but Harry persisted until the sheer delight of a diversion elicited her smile.

The cheerfulness didn't last long, but Harry was relieved to have found something that could make her feel better, even if only for a little time.


	13. Seven Year Itch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus is scratching Harry's seven year itch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Severus, rimming. Prompt 54, "strain".

Harry moaned.

Seven years they had been together now, the last four married, and the sex was even better than it had been when they were first discovering each other. Less frequent, perhaps, but other things more than made up for that.

Severus's mouth withdrew from Harry's bollocks. His lips traveled upward slowly, teasingly. Harry buried his face deeper in the pillow and quivered. His arse was already as high in the air as it could go; he could only wait until Severus reached...

 _There._ Severus's tongue breached him. Harry whimpered, the sound muffled by feathers, as his arsehole was coaxed open a loving mouth.

He had been horrified when Severus first introduced him to the idea of rimming, even knowing that there were charms to ensure cleanliness. It had taken Harry quite some time to agree to try it, but now it was among his favorite activities in bed, both receiving and giving. Now he tilted his hips, straining upward to encourage Severus to press his tongue as deeply as he could. He groped to fondle his throbbing cock, not to come yet, just to enhance the stimulation.

With a final slurp, Severus withdrew, but only for the few seconds before his cock head rested at the loosened entrance. He murmured a lubricating charm and slid smoothly inside until his bollocks pressed against Harry's perineum. Severus began to move in long smooth strokes, not hurrying, letting passion take its own time to reach white heat.

When Severus penetrated him, Harry had released his prick and braced himself on both elbows. He loved it when Severus fucked him, feeling that having Severus find the height of pleasure in Harry's body in some small way compensated for everything Severus had endured. While he enjoyed topping as well, having Severus inside him was even better, in Harry's opinion.

Severus's fingers gripped Harry's hips. He was close to coming now, Harry could tell, even though the speed of his strokes hadn't changed. Harry began to make little wordless murmurs of encouragement, urging Severus on. They rarely spoke in bed, except on the rare occasions that Harry was able to persuade Severus into an evening of role-play.

Severus's breathing was quicker now, harsher, and on a keening grunt his hips stilled as he quivered in orgasm. Harry smiled into his pillow and tightened his arsehole to milk out the last of Severus's spunk. Severus's wiry arms wrapped around Harry's chest and rolled them over, still spooned together.

"Now, Severus, please," Harry whispered. Severus's mouth found the juncture between Harry's neck and shoulder and he bit gently even as his cauldron-calloused hands found Harry's prick and caressed it. Harry had been so ready for so long tonight that although he would have liked to prolong the pleasure, within moments he was shuddering in Severus's embrace, his prick spurting pearly white come through Severus's fingers.

"I love you," he murmured sleepily, snuggling against Severus's bony frame.

Severus kissed Harry's neck again. "I love you too, Harry."


	14. Hopeless Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Horcrux search is tearing Harry and Ron apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Ron. Prompt 24, "frustrated".

This was worse than their fourth year, when Ron hadn't believed Harry when he said he hadn't put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and they didn't speak for weeks.

Harry knew that Ron was frustrated by their lack of progress in finding Horcruxes. Harry was, too, and so was Hermione. Even being able to destroy the one they _had_ found would have been a help, since its very presence made them all more hopeless and angry with one another.

He couldn't even console Ron effectively. The three of them had agreed that whoever was on guard duty ought not to have to wear the locket. That meant that if Hermione was out of the tent, either Harry or Ron had the locket around his neck, and it didn't exactly put either of them in the mood for so much as a snog, far less anything more. Harry missed the sex. It was small consolation that Ron was in the same boat with Hermione. He wasn't _exactly_ jealous that Ron fancied Hermione too, but it would have been difficult to cope with Ron's emotional upset and distance if Harry had known Ron was acting differently with Hermione.

But it was Ron's friendship that Harry missed most. More than that, he worried that in his frustration, Ron might decide to give the whole search up as a bad job. Hermione's parents were safely out of the way, whereas Harry understood that Ron was afraid for his family, and hated not having reliable information about what might be happening to them.

All Harry could do now was to hope that somehow one of them would come up with a new idea for where to search, what exactly to look for. He couldn't think beyond that, not really, but he held on to the slim hope that someday they would succeed, and then perhaps he and Ron could again be to each other what they had been before.


	15. Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry only cries at one funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 79, "funeral".

Harry attended all of the endless funerals that he could, but only cried at one.

Andromeda and Ted Tonks, understandably, had chosen to make it a double funeral. Remus had had no close family living, and he had been the father of their grandson. It was odd to see Tonks with plain brown hair, and nearly as odd to see Remus with the lines of care and worry smoothed away.

Harry regretted Tonks's death, but it was Remus's that truly grieved him. No one still alive had known his parents so well. Losing Remus was almost like losing them again.


	16. In the Meantime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds waiting for Draco to show up to the restaurant more enjoyable than he'd anticipated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry. Adult; public sex, blow job. Prompt 1, "wicked".

Five minutes after the time when Draco was supposed to meet Harry for dinner, the restaurant's host hurried over to the table.

"Mr. Harry Potter?"

"That's me."

"I have a message for you from your dining companion. He says he will be sitting at the table within half an hour, and until then you should have a drink and try to enjoy yourself in the meantime."

Harry rolled his eyes. Draco wasn't _always_ late, but often enough that Harry had learned to go ahead and let himself be seated without him. Otherwise he would be stuck waiting at the front of the restaurant without even a chance to have a drink or a starter in the interim. "Thank you. I'd like a pint of Stella, if you have any, or whatever is most similar if you don't, please."

Sipping his beer a few minutes later, Harry wondered just how Draco thought Harry was going to enjoy himself on his own. This was a bit of a special night, too, marking three months exactly since they had first gone out. Harry had planned to make it extra-special, back in his flat after dinner; he intended to go along with a couple of the kinkier suggestions Draco had made recently, such as letting Draco blindfold him and tie him up.

Just thinking about what might happen later on was making his trousers uncomfortably tight, and he shifted in his seat, reaching down to adjust them discreetly.

"I'll take care of that," came a whisper from under the table, and Harry felt fingers fumbling at the zip of his fly, freeing his cock. A warm wet mouth enveloped it and began to suck.

" _Draco?_ " said Harry in a strangled voice. He looked around quickly, and realized with relief that the tablecloths in this restaurant all hung to the floor; no one could see what was happening. "What the _hell_ are you doing?" he added in an outraged whisper.

"Making sure that you enjoy yourself," said Draco, releasing Harry's cock momentarily.

Harry could just see the wicked smile Draco gave him before resuming his self-appointed task.

There was no way to stop him, not without creating a very public scene, and besides, there was something immensely erotic about the idea that he was getting a blow job here in this public place without anyone knowing about it. Draco was better at sucking cock than anyone else Harry had ever been with -- not that there had been _that_ many, but still -- and his lips and tongue soon had Harry on the brink of orgasm.

"May I bring you something to start with while you're waiting?"

Harry looked up to see the waiter hovering. "Not just yet," he managed to say, his fingers curling around the edge of the table. Draco's tongue traced the pulsing vein along the underside of Harry's cock, and Harry almost screamed.

"I'll return in a few minutes, then."

"Yes... thank you." The waiter turned to go.

Draco sucked hard, and Harry spasmed, his spunk shooting uncontrollably into Draco's mouth.

"You are _mad_ , you know that?" Harry said quietly to Draco a few minutes later. Draco had slipped out from under the table and quite casually seated himself in the chair opposite. Harry was fairly certain that no one else in the restaurant had seen a thing.

"I know." Draco gave him a lascivious smile. His lips were still reddened from his recent activities. "But you enjoyed that, admit it, even though if I'd asked you'd have said no."

"True enough," Harry had to agree. "I had something special planned for you later, but nothing like this."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I'll enjoy it." Draco winked. "Now, let's order. I'm starving."


	17. Named

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ginny has just given birth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ginny/Harry. Prompt 63, "melt".

Harry's heart nearly melted as he looked at the two of them.

Ginny lay propped up on pillows, her face white and exhausted, her usually bright red hair darkened with sweat. She made a tired gesture with her free hand at the bundle cuddled against her side in her other arm.

"A girl," she said, her voice suffused with joy. "And we were so sure, we'd only chosen boys' names. What shall we call her?"

Harry stroked the tiny fuzzy red head gently. "How do you feel about Lily?"

"Perhaps Lily Luna?" Ginny suggested.

Harry nodded, and kissed them both.


	18. A Little Discipline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco dress up for an appointment with Snape, but when they're late, he decides they need some reminders of proper behaviour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry/Severus. Cross-dressing, bondage, paddling, rimming. Prompt 91, "discipline".

"How do I look?" asked Draco, turning around slowly so that Harry could see him.

He was wearing a neatly pressed white shirt, a Slytherin tie, and a grey pleated skirt that ended just above his knees. Harry had helped him find a good depilation charm for his bare legs, and he wore white ankle socks and thin black leather shoes.

Harry grinned. "Far better than Pansy Parkinson ever did." Harry was likewise in student uniform, though with trousers instead of a skirt, and a Gryffindor tie.

"But you think _Severus_ will like it?" asked Draco in a worried voice.

"I expect he will. If he doesn't, _I_ certainly do." Harry pulled Draco into a close embrace, letting Draco feel just how much the sight of him had excited Harry already. "Come on. We don't want to be late."

They were, however. As they entered Snape's room, he gave a pointed glance at the clock and snapped, "I said eight o'clock _precisely_. It is now two minutes past the hour." Then he looked at them properly, and his eyes widened. "May I ask why you are wearing those clothes?"

Draco moved forward first and perched on the edge of Snape's desk, crossing his legs at the knee so that his already-short skirt hiked up even higher. "We thought you might enjoy the chance to give a different sort of detention than you ever could have when you were really a professor."

"I'm sure you remember some of the things you saw in my memory when you were trying to teach me Occlumency," Harry added, moving forward in turn and kneeling beside Snape's chair.

Snape wet his lips. "Yes, I remember. I was more curious why Malfoy chose to don a skirt for the occasion. Not that I'm _objecting_ ," he added hastily.

Draco gave him a saucy grin. "Don't I make a good-looking girl? Harry thought so. But I have toys no girl has." He reached for Snape's hand and guided it slowly up his leg. Harry watched and felt a surge of excitement as Draco's back arched, his hips thrusting forward into Snape's hand under his skirt.

"So you do." Snape's rich dark voice turned a shade colder as he said, "A student ought not to be so forward, however."

"No, sir," said Draco, Harry echoing him a second later.

"I believe you two require greater discipline. First late for our scheduled engagement, now taking it upon yourselves to make choices for me." Snape tapped the fingers of his free hand thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. " Malfoy, against the wall. Potter, fetch the paddle from my chest. Since it seems this was equally your idea, you can then join Malfoy."

Draco went and took hold of one of the two pairs of rings that were embedded in the wall, spreading his feet apart so that his ankles were next to a pair of rings at the floor. Once he had brought the paddle to Snape, Harry joined Draco, at the other double set of rings. They shared a tiny smile.

" _Incarcerous!_ "

Cords appeared out of nowhere, twining around their ankles and wrists, securing them to the rings. Snape stepped close behind them.

"Count."

He began to wield the paddle, following no particular pattern as he struck their still fully clothed buttocks and thighs. He might give Harry several blows in a row, then switch to alternating between them, then concentrate on Draco for a time. The unpredictability of it made it all the more stimulating. Somewhere around stroke thirty Snape Vanished Harry's trousers and pants; glancing sideways, Harry saw that Draco's arse was bare now, too.

Paddling warmed Harry's arse delightfully. Now that he was half-naked, each stroke felt sharper, more precise. The blood pounded in his cock, but Harry knew better than to try to rub it on the wall in front of him. Snape would never let them get away with that. When they played games of this sort, neither Harry nor Draco was allowed to come until Snape gave permission.

Beside him, Draco was flushed and panting, his shirt beginning to cling damply to his chest. Harry was sure he looked much the same.

"Fifty," said Draco with a gasp.

Harry had only reached forty-five, and he expected to receive more strokes, but instead Snape said, " _Finite incantatem_ ," to release their bonds.

"I'm not certain you have learned your lesson," he murmured, fondling their rigid cocks simultaneously. "What do you suppose we should do about that?"

"Whatever you think suitable, sir," said Harry.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Have _you_ any ideas, Mr Malfoy?"

"You could fuck me, sir, while Harry fucks you," suggested Draco.

Snape considered it, still idly stroking their pricks. His own was a visible bulge in his trousers. "Not a bad idea, but I believe we will do it the other way around."

Draco looked a little disappointed -- given a choice, he preferred to bottom -- but at Snape's command he obediently conjured a mattress to cushion the floor for them all.

"On your knees, Potter," ordered Snape, "and don't touch yourself. Perhaps Mr Malfoy will suck you off afterward."

Harry knelt. He expected Snape to use a lubrication spell, but instead felt the tingle of a cleaning charm, followed by the unmistakable feel of Snape's hands parting his cheeks and Snape's tongue wriggling into his arsehole. Harry groaned, digging his fingernails into the mattress, as Snape licked and sucked. A long blissful time later, he felt Snape's cock pushing into him, and then the increased pressure that said Draco had entered Snape's arse as well.

"Oh sir, oh sir," said Draco, setting the pace of thrusting. "Your arse is so hot, so tight, I'm not going to last long, sir, I'm sorry, you're just too fucking hot..."

He continued babbling in a similar vein, and Harry grinned to himself. Draco was always ridiculously vocal when having sex, but since both Harry and Snape enjoyed it, Snape usually let him speak. Harry's own arse felt filled almost to bursting as Snape thrust in and out, following Draco's rhythm.

"Oh please, please sir," cried out Draco, his voice rising in pitch. "I'm _begging_ you, sir, please!"

Snape gave one quick caressing stroke to Harry's cock. "You may come, Malfoy."

Harry was tilted forward with the force of Draco's final thrusts, transmitted and amplified through Snape's body, before Draco came with a throaty groan.

"Thank you, sir," murmured Draco after a momentary pause.

"Get under Potter and suck him off," Snape told Draco.

Harry looked down his torso to see Draco's head appear under his belly. Draco gave him a sleepy satiated smile before his warm wet mouth closed over the tip of Harry's cock, his tongue probing the slit. Harry shuddered and clenched his arse in reaction.

"That's right, Potter," murmured Snape, beginning to thrust again. "Malfoy is going to get you nice and ready, but mind you don't come until I do."

"Yes, sir," said Harry, and groaned as the sensations threatened to overwhelm him.

Little sparkles of light went off behind his closed eyelids with every thrust into his arse by Snape, every deep suck on his prick by Draco. He whimpered and tightened his arse muscles again, trying to hold back the orgasm that threatened to explode through him despite Snape's stricture.

Snape was moving faster now, deeper, soft grunts coming from his throat as he moved. Drops of his sweat had begun to fall onto Harry's back.

" _Harry..._ " Snape groaned out, and gave a final plunging thrust, shuddering and half collapsing over Harry's back.

"Please sir, now?" begged Harry. Draco's lips and tongue were working him to the point of no return.

"Yes, come," Snape murmured. His arms wrapped tight around Harry, holding him through the shuddering orgasm.

Draco licked Harry clean of both Harry's spunk and Snape's before slithering out from underneath and giving them each a long slow kiss. "I'm rather sorry you didn't leave my skirt on, though, Severus," he said as if picking up the thread of a conversation. "I _had_ hoped you might dandle me on your knee and comfort me after my punishment."

Snape snorted. "You don't feel you've had adequate comfort?"

Draco shrugged, threading his fingers into the hair on Harry's chest. "No, only that I went to some trouble over that outfit and you didn't seem to care about it much."

Harry took Draco's hand and squeezed it. "I liked it, I told you so."

"Another time, Draco. You can't always have everything your way." Snape yawned. "I'm sure that you'll need disciplining again soon; perhaps I'll send you out to do errands dressed in your little schoolgirl skirt, and keep count of how many men try to flirt with you. Your punishment will be adjusted accordingly."

"Mm." Draco wriggled closer. "What will Harry get to do, then? Does he go with me?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps I'll have him wear nipple clamps all day." Snape stroked Harry's chest too, his fingers twining with Draco's. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Potter?"

"Oh yeah," breathed Harry, turned on by the thought even though his cock was too spent to respond just yet.

"The very next paddling, though, one of _you_ will give _me_." Snape's lips curled up in a hungry smile. "I need a little discipline myself, you know."


	19. Overheard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron's been listening to Harry at night. Harry decides to do something about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Ron. Chan (they are both 15), voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, first time. Prompt 5, "exposed".

When he first realized that Ron listened to him wank at night, Harry felt embarrassed about it, even exposed, as if he had been caught doing something he oughtn't.

Which was ridiculous, really; it wasn't as if Ron didn't wank too, and for that matter Seamus and Dean and Neville. Dean usually remembered to use a Silencing charm, but Neville had never really mastered it, and the rest of them mostly forgot. Harry was sure it was only himself that Ron paid attention to, not the others. Any time Harry wanked, all sounds from Ron's bed stopped, and then once Harry had finished, he could hear Ron moving again. The same didn't happen if it was anyone else.

Harry started listening for Ron in return, waiting to see if he could hear Ron's bed creaking rhythmically, and then fisting his own prick in time with Ron's movements. He had to remember to use _Silencio_ , though, or Ron would stop wanking and listen to Harry instead.

It was an odd situation altogether, each of them getting off while listening to the other. Harry wasn't sure if Ron had realized that Harry knew what he was doing, or that Harry had started listening in return. Matters finally came to a head over the Christmas holidays, when they were sharing the room in Grimmauld Place again.

Christmas night Harry didn't even pretend to wait until Ron might be asleep before starting to wank. He skinned out of his pyjamas altogether, licked his palm, took hold of his cock, and began a steady stroke that made his bed creak slightly. He even allowed himself to make little sounds of pleasure as his cock slid through his fist. All the while, he was straining to hear any sounds from Ron's bed. There was nothing. He imagined Ron lying there, his eyes wide open as he listened to Harry's movements, perhaps with his own hand wrapped around his prick to both arouse and control himself until Harry had finished. The thought of Ron so focused on him excited Harry tremendously.

Just before he came, Harry stopped and held still. He could hear Ron breathing heavily from the other bed. Harry gathered up his courage and said aloud, "Ron?"

There was a pause. Then --

"Yeah?"

"Are you listening to me?"

An even longer pause before Ron admitted, "Yeah, I was. Sorry, mate."

"It's all right if you do, but I was thinking that maybe you might want to do more than just listen." Harry swallowed. "I'd like to do more than listen to you."

"You would?" Ron sounded incredulous.

"Yeah, I would."

He waited. A minute dragged by, then another, but at last he heard Ron's mattress creak as he stood up, and Ron's steps coming toward him. In the dim moonlight that filtered through the curtained window Harry saw that Ron was naked, too, his prick standing stiffly against his stomach.

"Come on," said Harry, lifting up the bedclothes for Ron to get in.

Ron's skin was cool and warm at once, and his cock was hot and heavy in Harry's hand. He groaned when Harry touched him and his hips jolted forward. Harry wriggled closer until he could move his face a last half-inch and press his lips to Ron's. Ron's mouth opened to him and Harry felt the tip of his tongue against his own. A shudder ran through him and he stroked Ron's cock faster. Now Ron's hand found his prick, Ron's touch like and yet unlike what he was used to in wanking, far more exciting because he didn't know just what Ron might do next.

He had already been so close that it was hardly any time before orgasm overtook him, and Ron came too just seconds later, their spunk mingling messily on their hands and stomach.

"Wow, Ron," murmured Harry, just as Ron said, "Fucking brilliant, that was." Harry could feel that Ron's grin was as wide as his.

"Loads better than wanking, I think."

"Hell, yeah," Ron agreed. Harry grabbed the face cloth he'd tucked under his pillow to clean them up -- his cleaning charms weren't very reliable, and he knew Ron was even worse at them.

"You can sleep here with me if you'd like," he offered.

"I think I would," said Ron, and snuggled close.


	20. Exchange of Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks has a rather different kind of gift for Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Tonks, adult. Chan (Harry is 15). For ragdoll, who asked for this pairing, with smut if possible. Prompt 22, "explosion".

"Wotcher, Harry."

Harry started and nearly dropped the tin of ginger biscuits he had come to the pantry of Grimmauld Place to find. "Er, hi, Tonks."

He couldn't quite bring himself to meet her eyes, not after he'd been wanking to thoughts of her through the Christmas holidays.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Tonks took a couple of steps toward him. She was close enough now that he could sense the warmth of her, smell the faint sweet scent of her hair and skin. He swallowed and turned a little sideways, hoping Tonks would not notice his body's reaction.

"That's okay," he said, striving to be casual.

Tonks took the biscuit tin from his hands and set it aside. She pushed the pantry door closed behind her.

"I didn't give you a Christmas present."

"I didn't give you one, either."

"Maybe we could give each other one now," Tonks murmured, and before Harry quite realized what was happening, Tonks was kissing him, her tongue darting into his mouth.

He was too surprised to think of resisting, even if it hadn't felt so good, and after his fantasies of the past few nights there was a certain dreamlike quality to it all. Tonks took his hand and pulled it to her breast; before he had gotten over the thrill of feeling her there, though, she had guided it down between her legs, murmuring, "Touch me, Harry."

His breath caught as he fingered her slick folds edged in crinkled hair. Tonks pushed herself against him, undulating her hips in tiny circles, panting. She clutched at the back of his jumper and drove herself down onto his fingers, shuddering, her mouth opening in a throaty groan.

Harry thought there might be an explosion in his trousers as he watched Tonks come, he was so aroused. He didn't have time to do anything about it before Tonks had slid down his body, unzipping his trousers, the cool air on his cock making him shiver for an instant before she took him in her mouth.

Her bubblegum pink head bobbed up and down; Harry felt the delicious tugs her lips and tongue were giving to his cock, and couldn't believe this was really happening. Tonks's fingers stroked his bollocks and the base of his prick, the tip of her tongue flickered against his slit, and Harry came in her mouth.

Tonks drew back a little, swallowing, and licked him clean. She stood up and gave him a swift peck on the cheek, saying, "Happy Christmas, Harry. Better straighten up... and wash your hands before you take those biscuits out to the other room." She winked, tidied up her own clothes, and ducked out of the pantry.

Harry blinked. He sniffed his fingers; they smelled like Tonks. He probably _had_ better wash them.

When he finally carried the tin out to the living room to share with Hermione and Ron and the rest of the Weasley family, he knew he had a silly grin on his face, but he figured it would be chalked up to it being the holidays, not to having had the best surprise present he could have imagined.


	21. The Row

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wants Ron to tell Hermione the truth about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Ron; references to Hermione/Ron. Prompt 73, "nowhere".

"It's nothing to do with you. Honestly, it isn't," said Ron in an angry whisper.

"What? We've been mates for six years, rather more than that for two, and you're trying to tell me that you wanting to shag Hermione has nothing to do with me?" Harry glared back at Ron and scratched at his neck where the locket chain rubbed.

"I didn't say I wanted to shag her, I said I fancy her. I mean, I _do_ want to shag her, but that's not what I said, and that's not the point."

"That's _exactly_ the point. Or were you planning to be involved with both of us at the same time?"

"Well, yeah." Ron looked bewildered. "That's why I told you, Harry. I figured you should know that I feel more for Hermione than just friendship, and I think she feels the same about me."

"No kidding," Harry muttered. Anyone with half an eye could see how Hermione felt. "Look, I was okay with you going out with Lavender last year, when you told me you just wanted to see what it was like to be with a girl."

"I know. I still can't figure out what she saw in me." Ron shook his head reminiscently. "Crazy, that was."

"And I appreciate that _you_ didn't make a fuss either when I went out with Cho those few times," continued Harry doggedly. "But Hermione... Hermione's different. She's our _friend_ , Ron. Don't you think that if the two of you become involved, it'll mess up the friendship between the three of us?"

"I don't see why." Ron shrugged. "You and me being together hasn't messed things up with Hermione."

It wasn't the same, though. Harry was sure of that even if he couldn't explain why.

"Will you tell her about us?" he pressed.

Ron looked wary. "I hadn't planned to. I never told Lavender, and you never told Cho."

"Those relationships weren't serious."

"But they _could_ have been. Neither of us knew at the time, did we?" Ron pointed out. "I reckon Hermione doesn't _need_ to know."

"Well, that leaves me nowhere, doesn't it?" said Harry bitterly, fingering the Horcrux around his throat. " _You'll_ be all romantic and kissy with Hermione, and _I'll_ be begging you to spare me a minute and let me suck your cock."

"Bollocks." Ron stood up and glared at Harry, his fists clenched. "After all these years, Harry, you're mental if you don't realize I love you. But I love Hermione too, can't you understand that? It's like I need _both_ of you to be complete."

"You don't love and need her enough to tell her the truth," Harry shot back.

"Come _on_. Turn it around. How would you feel if I came to you and said I'd been secretly seeing, I don't know, Neville, for the past two years, but I wanted to go out with you too? That's how it would be for Hermione if I told her."

Harry scowled. Put that way, it _did_ sound ridiculous, and yet it seemed wrong for Ron not to tell Hermione the whole truth. It was almost as if he were ashamed of being in love with Harry, of their relationship... but could Harry really blame him? He had never wanted to be public about it either, if only to avoid awkwardness with their roommates at Hogwarts.

He sighed and repeated, "It just doesn't seem _right_ that Hermione shouldn't know. She was upset about you going out with Lavender, but she never much liked her anyway. I think it would be different with me."

"Maybe." Ron shook his head. "Maybe not. I could tell her later on, perhaps, kind of lead up to it gradually."

"Never mind. Never mind. Just... go out with her if you want, but unless you tell her about you and me, there won't _be_ a you and me anymore." He pulled the chain of the Horcrux over his head and tossed it to Ron. "Here. It's your turn to wear this. I'm going to sleep."

He lay down on the bed with his back to the room and held himself stiff until he heard Ron go to bed too. Even then he didn't dare give in to the pain in his heart. He wouldn't let Ron see how badly their quarrel hurt him.


	22. The Rewards of Hero-dom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry believes Severus is just as much a hero as he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult: legilimency!sex. For Alisanne who requested smutty Snarry for this prompt. Prompt 37, "heroes".

"I think you're just as much of a hero as I am," argued Harry stubbornly. "We were both willing to give up our lives. Most of the wizarding world believes you _did_ give up your life."

"A hero? Hardly." Severus's eyes were half shut as he guided Harry's prick into his arse, sinking down until his arsecheeks touched Harry's thighs. "I never intended to be a hero, only to do what Dumbledore persuaded me _had_ to be done."

" _That_ \-- oh fuck, Severus -- that's the _point_. Neither of us did what we did to be a hero, but to do the right thing, regardless of any risk or cost to ourselves."

Harry gasped. Severus was riding him, his arse clenching and loosening rhythmically around Harry's cock. Harry wished he were flexible enough to suck Severus's prick at the same time, but contented himself with reaching instead to fondle it, scarlet in its nest of dark curls.

"Perhaps you're right." Severus's eyes were intent on Harry's, his eyebrows arching in query.

"Do it," whispered Harry, deliberately opening his mind to Severus. No longer did he try to barricade his thoughts against Severus; they had found that Legilimency made sex even better between them, and Harry was trying to learn the skill himself.

He groaned as the images of desire built between them, scarcely able now to distinguish between his own rising toward his climax deep in Severus's body, and the delight Severus felt in Harry's touch. Their mutual orgasm overwhelmed him.

As Severus slumped forward, spent, Harry put his arms around the older man and whispered against the lank dark hair, "You're more than enough hero for me, and all I could ever want."


	23. The Downsides of Hero-dom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron is dismayed by what happens after he is described as a hero in the _Prophet_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Hermione/Ron suggested. For Ancarett who requested Harry & Ron. I didn't manage gen, but the threesome is only by implication. *g* Prompt 37, "heroes".

"Merlin's saggy tits!" A pair of lacy pink knickers fell onto the table. Ron drew back from them as if they might be hiding a baby Acromantula in their folds. "Another one. These girls are mental, Harry. There's no other way to describe them."

"Did this one include a picture of herself?" Harry asked with interest.

"I think so." Ron poked at the lace and pulled out a photograph, passing it to Harry.

The witch in it was wearing those same pink lace knickers and quite obviously nothing else, tossing her hair and smiling flirtatiously from the picture.

"She does have nice tits," said Hermione in a composed voice, plucking the photograph from Harry's fingers and glancing at it.

"Not nicer than yours," said Ron.

"Why, thank you, Ron."

"But I mean, what sort of crazy person thinks that sending something like _that_ will attract me?" Ron wondered aloud.

"It _did_ get your attention," Harry said. "Not in a good way, but they can't have any idea of what you're really like."

"No," Ron sighed. "That stupid bloody article in the _Prophet_ , setting us all up as heroes. I wonder if Neville gets knickers in his morning post?"

Hermione giggled. "And what his Gran has to say about it if he does."

Harry and Ron both laughed at that.

"Seriously, though, Ron, remember all those letters I got after Rita Skeeter wrote those articles about me for the Triwizard Tournament? Mostly from women old enough to be my mum, but if I had been a few years older, I bet I'd have been getting things like that." He nodded at the photograph and knickers. "Some people just don't have any sense of what's appropriate, I guess."

"Clearly not." Ron picked up the offending items with a look of distaste. "So do I send them back, or throw them out, or what?"

"Throw them out," said Hermione. "If you answer at all, it will just encourage more of the same; people talk. If you respond in any way to _one_ witch, a half-dozen of her friends will write you next, and it will never end."

"I think she's right," said Harry.

"Wouldn't it be simpler if we just made our situation public?" asked Ron plaintively. "If people knew the three of us were involved, don't you think they'd quit sending such rubbish?"

"Probably they'd send more," said Harry. "They'd be likely to figure that if you were _already_ involved with two people at once, you might be keen to make it three, or four, or..."

"Not to mention that Skeeter would have a field day," added Hermione. "Can't you just see the headlines? _Hogwarts Heroes in Love Triangle_ , or something of the sort."

"I expect you're right." Ron used a levitation charm to float photograph and knickers over to the rubbish bin "You know, if I'd known this would be the result of being called a hero, I might've had second thoughts."

"You learn to live with it," Harry assured him.


	24. The Sword of Gryffindor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville is worried about the effects of the sword of Gryffindor, and asks Harry's advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Neville. For coffee_n_cocoa who wanted Harry/Neville and welcomed smut. There's kissing, but no real smut here. Prompt 77, "sword".

A month after the Battle of Hogwarts, Neville turned up one morning at the Burrow while Harry was helping clear up from breakfast.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley. Can I talk to Harry for a few minutes?"

"Of course. We're finished here anyhow." Mrs. Weasley smiled at Neville. "Have you had breakfast, dear?"

"Oh yes, thank you."

Harry wiped his hands on the dishtowel and said, "Shall we go to the living room?"

Neville looked nervous. "Maybe outside instead?"

"Sure."

Harry led the way down to the bottom of the garden, where they would be private. Well, private except for the gnomes, but Harry didn't imagine that they counted for much. "What is it, Neville?"

"I wanted to ask you something about the sword of Gryffindor. You're the only other person I know for whom the Sorting Hat produced it."

Harry nodded. "What about the sword?"

Neville chewed at his lip. "Did you feel anything... funny... when you held it?"

"Funny like how?"

"Like..." Neville's face went pink. "Like excited. _You_ know what I mean. I hardly noticed it at the time; it seemed natural somehow and everything was happening so quickly, but when I thought about it afterward I realized what had happened. I wondered if it was some effect of the sword, or if there was something wrong mentally with me for that to happen."

"There's nothing wrong with you." Harry took a deep breath and confessed, "That happened to me, too. So maybe it _is_ the sword, although I have no idea why it should do that and for once I don't think I'll ask Hermione to research it for me."

Neville gave a feeble chuckle. "No, I shouldn't think so. Er. There was one other thing."

"Something else about the sword?"

"N-not exactly." If Neville's face was flushed before, now it was nearly scarlet. "Whenever I think about holding the sword, the same thing happens again... and I think about you, too."

Harry stared at him in surprise.

Neville said in an apologetic voice, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It doesn't matter."

"Wait." Harry put a hand on Neville's arm to stop him from getting up to leave. "You imagine me holding the sword too?"

"I imagine _me_ holding it, then _you_ holding it, then... us touching each other," finished Neville in a whisper. "Look, I know it's Ginny you fancy, so just forget about it."

"No." Harry's head was whirling as his thoughts rearranged themselves into a whole new pattern. "I _did_ fancy her, you're right, but somehow things haven't been the same since the battle. We're not going out anymore, and I don't think we're likely to ever again. I thought _you_ liked girls, though; you took Ginny to the Yule Ball yourself."

"Didn't have much of a choice, did I?" said Neville with the faintest hint of scorn. "It was all boy-girl couples. No chance I was going to have myself made fun of more than usual by asking another bloke, any more than Alicia and Katie were going to go together."

"Alicia and Katie?" Harry blinked. "What... oh. No, I can understand that."

The notion that Neville fancied him had been gradually sinking into Harry's brain as they talked. It was strange, but not something that actually _bothered_ him, rather to his own astonishment. He said as much, and added, "I've never really thought about being attracted to another boy before. Maybe I _should_ think about it. Can't be a proper Gryffindor without the courage to try something new, right?"

Neville's incredulous smile lit up his face. "Really, Harry?"

In answer, Harry leaned over and kissed him, a kiss that began as a chaste peck, but quickly evolved into something more passionate than he had ever imagined, certainly more than he had ever experienced with Ginny.

When they finally broke off kissing, Neville chuckled. "I don't need the sword of Gryffindor now. I have a 'sword' of my own, and I bet you do too."

"Yeah," Harry admitted, adjusting his trousers. "I don't think now is the time to do anything about it, but I'd say we definitely need to make some arrangements for the future."

"I'll figure out something and let you know," said Neville firmly. "Look for an owl from me in a day or two."

Harry nodded as they both stood up. He rather liked the idea of Neville taking charge of things. "I will. Do you want to come and say hello to Ron, or goodbye to Mrs. Weasley?"

"No, that's all right. Just tell them I had to get back to Gran. She thinks she's fine but she's not entirely recovered yet. Thanks, Harry."

Almost shyly, Neville gave Harry a quick buss on the cheek, and Disapparated. Harry stood looking at the spot where Neville had been for a few moments more. In less than half an hour, many of his ideas about himself had been turned upside down, but he found that he wasn't troubled by that at all. Instead he felt strangely light, and happier than he could remember being in a long time. He smiled to himself and walked back to the Burrow.


	25. Repayment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius owes Harry for saving Draco's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, adult. For felaine who wanted this pairing. Prompt 17, "not enough".

When Draco told his father how Harry Potter had rescued him from Fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement, Lucius's heart twisted. His son had come so near to dying, and yet been saved, saved by the boy whom Lucius had always considered an enemy. Anything he could do for Potter, anything he could offer was not enough to repay such a gift, and yet -- what else could Lucius do? He had to show that a Malfoy would not remiss in honouring such a debt.

A few discreet inquiries here and there informed Lucius that Potter was staying on his own in the old Black residence on Grimmauld Place. As the enchantments that had once protected it were no longer in force, Lucius was able to ring its doorbell one evening when he was reasonably certain Potter had no other visitors.

Recalling Potter's odd penchant for house-elves, he spoke politely to the one that answered, inquiring whether his master was home and would see Lucius on a personal visit. He even offered the elf the wand he had recently acquired to replace the one destroyed by the Dark Lord months ago. Such a gesture should demonstrate to Potter that Lucius both meant him no harm and sincerely wished to speak with him.

The house-elf returned and led Lucius to the library, where Potter sat in a worn red velvet chair, Lucius's wand on the mahogany table beside him. He was twirling his own wand idly between his fingers. Rather to Lucius's surprise, he gestured to the chair opposite.

"Sit down."

Green eyes followed Lucius as he crossed the faded carpet and sat.

"Why have you come?"

Lucius cleared his throat, carefully keeping his eyes on Potter's face, not permitting himself to glance at his wand.

"I came to thank you, Mr Potter."

"What for?" Potter sounded genuinely curious.

"For saving my son." Lucius swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. "That is a debt I can never repay, but I offer you anything that I have that you may value, as a token of my gratitude."

" _Anything?_ " Potter's eyebrows went up. "If I asked you for your estate and all the wealth you possess, you would give me those, for instance?"

"Yes," said Lucius simply.

"I don't think I can put a monetary value on Draco's life," said Harry softly. "I'm sure _you_ don't."

Lucius shook his head, waiting for Potter to continue.

"But if I don't accept your offer in some fashion, you'll continue to feel indebted to me, won't you? The fact that _I_ don't consider it a debt is irrelevant, I think." Potter cocked his head, and Lucius nodded.

"So... what can I demand of you? Perhaps a service, rather than something more tangible. There are certain skills I would like to learn... and I believe you could teach me. Would you consider that an acceptable payment?"

"I cannot teach you anything related to the Dark Arts, if that's what you're thinking," said Lucius. "Not even to let you hone your abilities against them."

"I know. I read about it in the _Daily Prophet_ ; the Wizengamot made it a condition for all former Death Eaters' release that they take an Unbreakable Vow never again to practice any of the Dark Arts, or use any Unforgivable curses. No, what I have in mind is quite different."

Was that a flush on Potter's face?

"I want to be tutored in the erotic arts between men. Can you teach those?"

Lucius felt his own cheeks grow warm, more from surprise than embarrassment. He had no qualms at admitting that he preferred his own sex, but how had Potter known?

"Yes," he said, wondering on whose behalf it was that Potter wished to learn. "Yes, I have a certain amount of... experience... in those arts."

"Excellent." Potter's smile was wolfish. "You may begin tonight. Demonstrate how to suck another man's prick."

Lucius left his seat and knelt before Potter. Unfastening his trousers and taking that firm young flesh into his mouth, he thought that this payment on his debt was but a token. He hoped that Potter would want instruction in many more such skills in the days and weeks to come.


	26. Loyalty Beyond Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rather against his wish, Severus will keep his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For telperion1 who asked for Harry and Severus. Prompt 98, "yield".

He had yielded to emotion in begging Dumbledore to save Lily. Emotion failed him: Lily died. Yet somehow the Headmaster convinced him her son was the only hope against Voldemort.

Severus watched the boy during his Sorting, nursing a faint hope that young Harry might become Slytherin. Again, his hope was denied.

He resembled his father too closely for Severus to care for him. He had James's appearance, ability at Quidditch, contempt for rules. Only the occasional hints of Lily -- in Harry's eyes, in his loyalty to unpopular friends -- kept Severus from declaring to Dumbledore that he abjured their bargain.


	27. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's what Lily would have wanted, Harry thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Dudley, Petunia. For accioslash who requested Harry and Petunia. Prompt 86, "pride".

The Christmas following the defeat of Voldemort, Harry was astonished to receive a Christmas card from Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. Opening it, he saw that Dudley had signed his name first. Perhaps it had been his cousin's idea to send the card?

They _were_ the only family he had. Harry supposed it wouldn't hurt anything to send a card in return, so he did, inaugurating a regular annual exchange and even a tentative détente. Harry received an invitation to Dudley's wedding, and went. None of the Dursleys came to Harry's, but their absence was explained when they sent an announcement of the birth of Dudley's daughter, who arrived that same day.

Still, Harry was unprepared for the black-edged card that arrived a few years later. Uncle Vernon had died: a heart attack while he was on the telephone at work, probably shouting at someone over an order of drills. He couldn't honestly say that he would _miss_ Uncle Vernon, but he went to the funeral anyway.

Despite his size, Dudley looked like a bewildered little boy as he hugged Harry and thanked him for being there.

Aunt Petunia looked at him, sniffed, and asked, "Why did you come?"

Pride kept Harry from making a tart retort. Instead he said gently, "I came for you and Dudley, Aunt Petunia, to see if there was anything I might do to help."

It was what he thought his mum would have wanted, even though Petunia had never forgiven her sister for having the talent she so envied.


	28. Dumbledore's Army Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Neville think Hermione's idea is a good one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Neville. For angela_snape who suggested this pairing. Prompt 48, "reunion".

"Oh, Hermione." Harry chuckled and shook his head over the note he had received in that morning's post.

"What is she up to now?" asked Neville, pouring himself another cup of tea and passing Harry the marmalade.

"She wants to arrange a reunion of the D.A.," said Harry, passing Neville the piece of parchment. "It's been seventy-five years now since the war, hard as that is to believe."

"I think it would be rather nice if she organized one," said Neville, scanning the notes. "We only seem to keep in touch with a handful of the D.A. members anymore. It would be nice to see everyone again while we're all still in good health."

Harry nodded. By Muggle standards, being ninety-something was quite old, but he had grown used to the greater lifespan that magical ability conferred. "It _would_ be nice to catch up," he agreed. "When did she say she was thinking of having it?"

"The weekend after the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts," said Neville. "There are bound to be special celebrations on the anniversary itself, so that makes sense."

"Yes. All right, I'll drop her a reply later today to say that we think it sounds like a grand scheme and we both look forward to being there," he said. Picking up Neville's hand and squeezing it, he added, "Of course, the member of the D.A. that _I_ most want to see, I get to see every day of my life."

Neville wrinkled his nose at Harry and grinned. "I would think you were trying to flatter me if I didn't feel the same."


	29. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds saying no to Ron almost impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Ron, adult. Prompt 30, "stop".

"Stop."

It was one of the hardest things Harry had done his life, saying that to Ron, especially given that Ron had just that night rescued him from drowning and destroyed the locket Horcrux to boot.

"Harry?" Ron held still, his arms spread in an uncompleted embrace.

Swallowing painfully, Harry said, "Nothing's changed, Ron. After what that locket showed you tonight, I know that you love both of us, and I still can't feel that it's right if you don't tell Hermione the truth about you and me. God knows I've missed you more than you can probably believe, but I just can't go along with this, however glad I am that you've come back."

Ron let his arms fall to his sides, his eyes intent on Harry's face. "Just tonight, Harry, I swear it. Only let me love you tonight, to celebrate, and then I won't push you. I still don't agree with you that it's necessary to tell Hermione, but..." he bit his lip. "I'll think about that, I promise."

Harry closed his eyes. He could smell the damp leaf-mould scent that clung to them both from the pond, and faintly below that, the smell of Ron's skin, warm and familiar and arousing. He couldn't resist, not after so many lonely nights.

"All right. Just tonight, then," he said, looking at Ron again.

"Thank you, Harry." Ron sounded subdued.

Harry hoped that he really _would_ think hard, and eventually decide to explain to Hermione that the two of them had been lovers for two years. Harry was willing to accept that Ron loved Hermione as well as Harry -- he had even had thoughts that way once or twice himself, while Ron was gone -- but deep down he was certain that a relationship between any of them could only work out if they were all honest with each other.

He put those thoughts aside as Ron kissed him, pushing him back onto the bed. It was like coming home to have Ron there again, loving him, Ron's lips on his skin sending sparks down his spine, Ron's prick throbbing warm against his own as they fumbled their clothes off. Harry could have wept when Ron entered him, not from pain but with joy from being so connected once more.

Ron's absence had been like having part of himself missing; he wondered fleetingly if there was any similarity to the ripping of the soul to make a Horcrux. Then Ron began to move, murmuring Harry's name, and Harry's thoughts returned to the moment and the ecstasy of their reunion. Whatever happened next, he could rejoice in having this.


	30. Laughing at Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Harry had fallen in love with Charlie for his sense of humour..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie/Harry. For secretsolitaire who requested this pairing. Prompt 2, "laughter".

Harry had fallen in love with Charlie for his sense of humour: playful, easy-going, never malicious, always infectious.

The first time he visited Charlie in Romania he was astonished to discover that virtually all of the other dragon handlers shared that quality. The refectory where they took their meals rang to the rafters with laughter every night, and Harry hadn't been there for two days before he was the recipient of good-natured practical jokes just like everyone else.

He commented on it that night, after they had made love and lay sweaty and content in each other's arms.

"I think you pretty much _have_ to be easy-going to do well working with dragons," said Charlie, scratching thoughtfully at the ginger stubble on his chin. "For one thing, dragons can sense if you're nervous, and they don't like it. For another, well, it _is_ dangerous, and laughter is a pretty effective way to cope with stress. I mean, there are other abilities that are necessary for the job, but they're not enough.

"There was a bloke here several years back who came with the best recommendation from his Care of Magical Creatures instructor I've ever seen. He was from East Africa and had practically cut his teeth working to subdue nundus that attacked local villages. His spell work was just amazing. But he was also the most sullen, humourless bastard I ever met -- worse than Snape and Binns put together -- and he didn't even last three months here."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "That makes sense." He tightened his embrace. "Charlie?"

"What?" Charlie kissed Harry's shoulder.

"Do you think I could get a job here at the reserve?"

"Probably, but don't think it's all fun and games. I wasn't kidding when I said it was dangerous."

"I fought Voldemort," Harry reminded him. "I can probably handle the risk."

"True, and you _did_ do brilliantly with that Horntail when you were just a little titch yourself. Yeah, I think if you're serious, Leopold would take you on."

"Great. I'll talk to him tomorrow," said Harry with a grin, thinking that then he could stay with Charlie all the time. He had never expected the dragon reserve to be such a congenial place.


	31. Dilemma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville has a problem and needs advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neville, Harry/Hermione/Ron. For Ancarett who wanted to see what Neville would do if _he_ received knickers in the post. Prompt 34, "present".

Neville was so wild-eyed when he Apparated into the back garden at Grimmauld Place that Harry thought for a moment he must have splinched himself.

"Harry. Thank goodness you're here."

"What is it, Neville? Is there something wrong?"

"It's horrible, Harry. I don't know what to do. Gran's threatening to throw me out of her house."

"What?" That seemed highly unlikely to Harry. Old Mrs. Longbottom had strong opinions, but Harry was sure that she loved her grandson more than nearly anything else. "Why on earth would she do that?"

"It's that wretched article in the _Prophet_." Neville's fists were clenching and unclenching as Harry watched.

"Come on into the kitchen. Kreacher will make you a cup of tea, and Hermione and Ron are there too, if you don't mind them hearing about whatever this is," said Harry.

"All right."

When Neville's cup of tea was steaming in front of him, he took a deep breath and explained.

"I don't know if any of you have had this happen, but ever since Rita Skeeter published that piece talking about how I had killed Nagini, with a photograph showing me holding the Sword of Gryffindor, I've been getting... presents." He shifted uncomfortably.

"I think I understand already," muttered Ron, but Harry held up a hand to quiet him.

"What exactly do you mean, 'presents'?"

Neville's face was flushed and miserable. "Things like, well, suggestive photographs and so forth. Some of them are really indecent."

"Anything else?" Harry asked.

Neville turned even redder. "Yes. The black leather collar and paddle really sent Gran over the edge."

Ron whistled. "A leather collar? Wicked."

"The most _he's_ gotten is lace knickers," Harry explained.

"So you've had the same problem?" Neville sounded a little relieved by that knowledge. "That's something. At least I can tell Gran that I didn't do anything special to cause this, not if you're getting stuff too."

"All three of us have," said Hermione. "For some reason it's the boys who seem to receive the most offensive things; the worst I've had were some naughty photographs."

"It does start to get old, though," said Harry, "especially since none of us particularly _wants_ that kind of solicitation. Well, certainly we don't, and I presume you don't either."

"No." Neville shook his head violently. "Even if it didn't upset Gran. Luna's the girl for me."

"We need to come up with a strategy to help Neville, though, so his Gran doesn't keep being bothered by this," said Hermione.

"Couldn't you just save opening any letters and packages you get until you're alone?" asked Ron.

Neville shook his head dolefully. "I don't know. Gran always wants to hear what the letters say, when they're not over familiar, that is. She likes knowing that I'm a hero to so many people."

"So open them alone, but read her the ones that are safe afterward," suggested Harry.

"And perhaps if you have us over for tea, and we talk about how _we're_ all getting such unwanted and questionable 'presents' too, she'll understand better," said Hermione.

"That might work," Neville looked considerably calmer now. "At least, then she wouldn't think I had somehow provoked all this."

"Of course not. Probably half of her upset is just that she isn't yet used to thinking of you as grown up," said Harry.

"Yeah." Neville finished his tea. "Thanks, all of you, for the good advice. Perhaps if you come to tea tomorrow? I like to give Gran a day's warning if we have guests; she thinks it's rude otherwise. I'll manage tomorrow morning somehow."

Harry spoke for all of them. "We'll be there. Good luck, Neville. See you tomorrow."


	32. A Rather Unusual Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Hermione makes a suggestion, Ron comes to talk to Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Ron. Prompt 44, "hope".

"So you're saying that Hermione knew all along?"

"Not _all_ along, no." Ron took Harry's hand and stroked his fingers over Harry's palm and wrist. "Not until after you and I had that huge row last winter and I left. She said she heard you talking about me in your sleep, and guessed from that."

"So it _didn't_ bother her that you and I were together." Harry felt vindicated by that, and a part of him was glad to see Ron flush.

"If it ever did, it doesn't now," said Ron. "You were right, I admit it. I should have told her the truth to begin with. It would have saved a lot of time. Plus..."

"What?" Harry prompted after a moment.

"Well, she had an idea that I hope you'll listen to, because she really means it. She thought that perhaps the three of us together, er, well, that it might work better for all of us to be together than for me to be sort of split between the two of you, if that makes sense?"

Harry blinked, digesting what Ron had said. "I guess it makes sense... The thing is, though, I really _do_ mostly think of Hermione as being like a sister. Once or twice maybe I've wondered what it might be like to kiss her or something, is all, never anything very serious in that way." Harry bit his lip, twining his fingers with Ron's.

"Do you think you could try? At least consider it?" Ron's eyes were hopeful. "One thing for sure, you know she doesn't love you for being a hero. That must count for something."

"It does," Harry assured him.

That was true; both Hermione and Ron had been through far too much with him for Harry to think that they cared at all about his public reputation. They had risked nearly as much as he, after all, and likewise been labelled as heroes.

"Give me a little while to think about it. This _is_ a rather unusual proposition, you know. And why didn't Hermione come with you today to suggest this, anyhow?" Harry asked.

"She thought that it might be easier for you if she weren't here. If you were totally against the idea, you could say so to me and not have to worry that you might hurt her feelings."

"I see." Harry pulled gently on Ron's hand, tugging him forward. "Look. You don't have to go back to her right away, do you?"

"No." Ron kissed Harry deeply.

"Good." Harry slid his hands up under Ron's shirt. "Because until just know I didn't know if I would ever get the chance to do this again, and whatever decisions we may make, I want you all to myself one last time for sure."

"I'm not going to say no to that." Ron bit Harry's ear. "You know I'll give you anything you want... because I love you."


	33. Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius teaches Harry a new skill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, adult; rimming. A sequel to "Repayment". Prompt 100, "shameless".

Before the past month, Harry would never have imagined that the proud Lucius Malfoy would be quite so shameless when it came to sex. Harry understood the sense of honour that had caused Lucius to agree to teach Harry anything he wanted to know about sex between men, in repayment for Harry having saved Draco's life, but the enthusiasm with which Lucius carried out their bargain was all but unbelievable.

Now and then Harry wondered whether Lucius had guessed just why Harry was so anxious to learn everything he could. Lucius resembled his son so closely that at times it was all Harry could do to keep from crying out Draco's name in moments of passion. Not that Harry even knew whether Draco returned his desires -- he was still working up the courage to ask Draco out -- though he had several reasons to suspect that might be the case. As long as Draco never found out about Harry's involvement with his father...

Tonight Lucius had suggested that it was time for Harry to learn about rimming. It hadn't taken long to master the cleaning charm that Lucius recommended, and now Harry knelt, waiting for Lucius to demonstrate. After that he would practice on Lucius.

"Lovely," Lucius murmured from behind Harry, his fingertips stroking Harry's arsecheeks, gently parting them. Harry felt the warmth of Lucius's breath on his skin, and then the even warmer wetness of Lucius's tongue tracing along his crack.

With conscious effort he relaxed. Lucius had sworn that the charm would take care of any unpleasant taste or odour, and said that Harry must simply concentrate on the sensation.

It did feel amazingly good as Lucius's tongue teased at his puckered opening, slowly working its way inside. Harry pushed back against him a bit, wanting more, and Lucius responded by wriggling his tongue and suckling the ring of muscle. His fingers stroked Harry's perineum and the backs of his bollocks. Harry groaned.

"Oh, yeah, I don't see how anyone could dislike _this_."

He turned his head sideways so that he could see the two of them in the mirror, Lucius's face pressed against Harry's arse, his hair falling in a pale curtain against Harry's thighs. The sight aroused him even more: the realization that this man, who had once upon a time made his contempt for and hatred of Harry clear, now had his tongue deep in Harry's arsehole, and gave every evidence of enjoying it, if his erection was any indication.

Harry's own cock was only half hard at the moment. Lucius's lessons had allowed Harry to discover that although he enjoyed very much having both fingers and cock inside him, he didn't generally stay hard during such arseplay, though he could reach the brink of orgasm quite quickly afterward.

Lucius had changed what he was doing, and was now flickering his tongue just around the rim of Harry's arsehole, no longer delving inside. That felt good as well, but Harry decided that he preferred it when Lucius's tongue penetrated more deeply. He paid close attention, however, to all the different types of movements that Lucius was demonstrating, trying to figure out exactly what Lucius was doing with his lips and tongue to make Harry experience the sensations he did. Even with the mirror, he couldn't really see any specifics, so he had to guess.

Eventually Lucius pulled away. "I'm afraid that's all I can manage for now," he said, his voice matter-of-fact enough to be not quite apologizing. "My jaw has grown tired. I doubt I could do a good job if I continue."

Harry nodded, accepting the explanation. "My turn, then, and be sure that you talk to me through it of that I don't miss any techniques."

One good thing about Lucius was that, unlike Harry, he could maintain an erection and even come with Harry's fingers or cock in his arse. Harry assumed it would be the same with rimming. That meant that Harry could be sure that Lucius was teaching him with integrity, not deceiving him for some purpose of his own.

The cleaning spell had worked. Harry could taste nothing offensive, just the same faint muskiness that he always smelled on Lucius. He ran his tongue in circles around the tiny hole, noting the difference in texture from the rest of Lucius's skin. Under his enthusiastic licking and suckling, Lucius's sphincter relaxed until Harry was able to curl his tongue and use it like a miniature prick, fucking Lucius open. He planned to put his actual prick there soon; if he made Lucius wet and open enough, perhaps he would see what it was like without lube.

"Try wriggling your tongue now," said Lucius, and inhaled sharply when Harry obliged. "Oh yes, like that. Remember, not all men enjoy exactly the same things, but I've never done it to someone who hasn't liked it."

Harry could not reply, his mouth being rather busy at the moment, but he filed that and Lucius's subsequent comments and suggestions away. He began to understand why Lucius had complained about his jaw becoming tired, too, and when the ache became too much, he pulled back, wiping his mouth.

"Stay there," he told Lucius.

He gave his cock a few quick tugs to bring it back to full hardness, checked to see that Lucius was also still aroused, and put the head against Lucius's loosened opening.

It felt rather different with no lube, tighter, more like jerking himself off with just spit in his palm. He decided he preferred a bit more slickness, and murmured the lubrication charm even as he kept thrusting. Lucius sighed in evident pleasure.

"Thank you."

Harry shrugged. "I like this better."

He was so excited from all they had done that it was very little time before he came deep in the heat of Lucius's body, reaching around to stroke Lucius's cock and ensure that he came, too. Not that Harry thought Lucius would renege on their agreement if he didn't reach orgasm each time, but it seemed only fair. Besides, if he ensured that Lucius enjoyed the experience, he would have more potential leverage over him in the future. Whatever else, he didn't want Lucius telling Draco about this.


	34. Fanning a Spark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wants to find out if Harry feels any attraction toward her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Hermione. Prompt 29, "weakness".

"What about Ginny?" Hermione asked after a while.

"What about her?" Harry squirmed a little. The thought of Ginny still prickled, even though he was sure breaking up had been the right thing for them both.

"You seemed to be serious about her, but all that time you were with Ron too, right?" There was no judgment in Hermione's voice, but Harry felt uncomfortable nevertheless.

"She wanted it so much," said Harry, as if that were any explanation, "and Ron and Lavender..." He trailed off, not wanting to discuss Lavender with Hermione. That was Ron's problem to deal with, if it was even still a problem.

"I wasn't trying to retaliate at Ron for going out with Lavender or anything like that; I guess it was just my weakness to be susceptible to someone who admired me so much. And Ginny's a lot like Ron in many ways. Well, she would be, wouldn't she? But that made it all so much easier, more comfortable, if that makes sense."

"It does," agreed Hermione, taking Harry's hand. "What I was trying to get at, though, was how much she attracted you physically. I mean, I saw the two of you snogging all over, but did things go further than that? Did you _want_ them to go further? Because if you and I and Ron are going to try to make something work between the three of us, that means there has to be something more than just friendship between you and me."

"Ginny and I didn't, er, go all the way." Harry licked his lips nervously. "But there was more than kissing. It's not as though girls can't turn me on, if that's what you want to know. Once or twice last winter I was even thinking of _you_ that way, I admit, although I tried not to because it seemed maybe it was because there was no one else around, and that seemed not right somehow, like it would muck up what we were trying to do."

Hermione nodded. "I felt the same way about you, Harry, and I couldn't figure out if it was real or if it was because Ron was gone and there was no one else."

"I assume that by now you and Ron have..." Harry couldn't quite finish the sentence.

Flushing, Hermione nodded. "Just like _you_ and Ron. Well, not _just_ like I suppose, but yes. So." Harry could see her throat move as she swallowed. "That's why I wanted to spend today with you, to see whether _we_ might have that kind of attraction between us. Not that we have to, you know, but just see if there's enough of a spark to go on with."

"I know." Harry took a deep breath. "It's more difficult when it feels planned like this, but I suppose that can't be helped."

"Not really," Hermione agreed. She moved closer so that her leg pressed against Harry's, and put her hand up to his cheek, turning his head toward her as she tilted her face up to kiss him.

It was a friendly kiss, gentle and undemanding. Harry relaxed a bit, and when that first kiss was over, he initiated another, this time letting his lips part and their tongues touch. Hermione made a soft murmuring noise and her arm tightened around Harry's shoulder.

This just might work, Harry decided. There _was_ a spark there; if not the flame of desire that he felt for Ron, still, there was something, and things hadn't been immediate with Ron either. Yes, this did seem as though it just might turn out better than he could ever have expected.


	35. Together At Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first time together was unlike anything Harry had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Hermione/Ron, adult. Prompt 96, "unity".

The first time that they made love, all three of them together, was totally unlike anything that Harry had expected.

At Hermione's insistence they had discussed it thoroughly ahead of time, to make sure that they all knew what the others liked at least in a general sort of way, so that there would be no unfortunate surprises or disappointments. Both Harry and Ron had protested, saying that talking would take all the spontaneity and excitement out of it, but Hermione stood her ground.

It didn't turn out to be as difficult to talk about as Harry had feared, and Ron had had the brilliant idea of acquiring a bottle of firewhisky to share to smooth the edges off before they got down to business, so to speak.

Even with the liquor and the discussion, the physical reality was still awkward. They tried several different positions before finding one that they were all willing to go along with. Even then it didn't feel quite right for any of them, having a third person there when they were just used to having two of them, whichever two it might be.

Nevertheless, despite the fumbling and nervous giggles and general strangeness of it all, when Harry looked over Ron's shoulder to meet Hermione's eyes, felt how her movements transmitted through Ron's body to enhance Harry's own pleasure, he knew that this unity had transmuted the friendship they had shared for so many years.

The only word Harry could use for what he felt was "love", and yet it was not quite what he had always thought love must be like. It wasn't the stomach-churning feeling he had had when he had kissed Cho, or the first time he and Ron had sex. It was a sense almost of expansion, of completion, of wanting the other two to feel the same delight as he, and knowing that they did.

The orgasm he experienced was almost incidental to the joy he felt that the three of them were truly together at last.


	36. Special Client

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He comes to me every week, about half past five on Wednesday, give or take a few minutes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry, adult. Infidelity, rentboy!Draco. Prompt 99, "sordid".

He comes to me every week, about half past five on Wednesday, give or take a few minutes. He always wants the same thing: first to be fucked hard in the arse, with me muttering lewdly at him all the while; then to be sucked off slowly, him standing against the wall, me kneeling in front of him.

Why he first picked me of the dozen man-whores on Carn Alley I don't know. He knew who I was, of course, just as I had no doubt of his identity. Maybe he figured that I wouldn't sell him out to the _Prophet_ because I'd have to admit my role, even more shameful than his. He didn't understand that I'd given up any pride years ago. Nevertheless he _was_ right in part, because I haven't ever exposed his dirty little secret.

He's one of the few clients I actually enjoy fucking. Some of it is because he is who he is, some because he's just a good fuck. His arse is tight and hot and slick around my cock as I slam into him, and he bucks up against me, grunting as I talk to him, call him filthy names, tell him how good it is to have the Saviour of the Wizarding World writhing under me like a cat in heat.

I take my time in coming -- the fee I charge is based partly on the duration of the encounter, and he likes it slow, so I'm happy to oblige him in that -- but eventually my thick cream spills into his arse, and I pull out, smacking his taut skin as I do so.

"Up against the wall," I order him, and he nods and scrambles to his feet to lean against the wall, my spunk oozing down the back of his thigh, his prick jutting out, the tip of it already weeping pre-come. I grab a pillow to put under my knees as I position myself in front of him, one hand on his hip, the other fondling his bollocks.

Tonight I tease him. I lick a single wet stripe from the base of his cock to the head and blow on it, then repeat the process over and over until he is whimpering, begging me to suck him. For all his apparent desperation I know he loves this, loves that I fuck him hard and then make him wait for his own orgasm.

I _don't_ know, and don't really care, whether he can't ask for these things at home, or whether his wife won't go along with these desires. It's enough that he comes to _me_ for them, needs _me_ to get him through the week. If it ever came down to it, I might even do it for free, for him.

At last I close my lips around his prick and begin to fellate him in earnest, my tongue rubbing over the head, my fingers adding their massage to the base as I suck him. He is wound so tight that he actually has to relax a little in order to come, his bitter jets pulsing into my throat. I swallow it all and lick him clean as he slumps bonelessly to the ground, his legs splayed out.

I stand up and glance at the clock. "Ten Galleons," I say, and he nods.

"You know where it is."

I take the money from the pocket of his robe: ten Galleons exactly. I never steal from clients; that way leads ruin, whereas honesty brings repeat custom.

He is only my third client today, so I put my working clothes back on and prepare to go out to Carn Alley again. He is dressed by the time I am ready and we leave my flat together.

"Next week, usual time?" he says as we reach the street.

"I'll be here," I say. He Disapparates and I position myself to wait for the next likely client.


	37. Invention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George has asked Harry to come see him in the shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 32, "one".

The bell on the door jingled as Harry went into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He was surprised at how few customers were there, but then, early afternoon on a weekday in March probably was not prime time for selling gag gifts.

"Is George here?" he asked the young witch behind the counter. "He asked me to meet him at one o'clock."

She nodded and said breathlessly, pointing, "Through that door and upstairs, in the workshop."

Harry climbed the creaking stairs with caution. He could hear a crackling sound and a few purple sparks raced past him. As he reached the large open room that served as George's laboratory and test space, George looked up and grinned.

"Glad you could make it, Harry."

Even after so many years it was still strange to see just one twin, not two. Harry wondered if he would ever get used to it, though he knew it must feel infinitely stranger and more distressing for George to be without Fred.

"So, what's this new product you wanted to talk to me about? You said it's practical, not for jokes?" Harry asked, leaning on the workbench and watching curiously as George made minute adjustments to the shapeless bundle of tweed fabric that sat there. Over in another corner a cauldron bubbled quietly to itself, occasionally emitting coloured sparks.

"Watch." George whistled, and his pet Crup leaped from its bed near the fireplace and raced up to him, its two tails wagging. "Good boy, Dodger." George fitted what Harry could now see was a tweed dog coat onto the animal. "All right, Harry, hex him. Anything you like."

"I don't want to hurt Dodger," Harry protested, scratching the Crup under its chin and eliciting a pleased wriggle and a swipe of a pink tongue.

"You won't. That's the point. The coat is spelled so that any magic will bounce right off. Good, bad, or indifferent magic, Dodger won't be affected. Go on, try something."

"If you're quite sure," said Harry doubtfully. He pulled out his wand and cast the Jelly Legs Jinx, which wouldn't do much harm, only disconcert the Crup a bit. Dodger remained unaffected, standing on his hind legs and nosing at George's pocket, which probably held some of his most recently developed joke sweets. A Crup would eat almost anything.

"The fabric is waterproof, too," George added. "I thought it would make excellent capes for the Aurors. I'm even prepared to cut a special deal with the Ministry, and agree not to make the material available to the general public, only to Magical Law Enforcement and their equivalents in other countries. Then you wouldn't have to worry about having it used against you."

Harry's eyebrows went up. "And what would induce you to make this generous offer?"

George looked slightly embarrassed. "I think perhaps you'll want to bring the Minister in for the price negotiations. I asked you here first so that you could decide whether you, as head Auror, would be interested or not. No point in talking with Kingsley if you didn't want the stuff."

"We'll want it," said Harry positively. "One thing, though. Can the person wearing it still do magic himself?"

"Yes. It's a one-way block," George said. "Protects the wearer from any magic, but doesn't prevent him from using his own spells or charms or whatever."

"That's all right then," said Harry. "Defence is all very well, but an Auror needs to be able to attack, too."

"Absolutely." George nodded.

"How did you come up with this, anyhow?" Harry asked.

George touched the spot on his head where the dark hole still gaped. "This. If I'd been wearing something like this material, I wouldn't have lost my ear. Fred was the one who first came up with the notion, back when we were developing the Shield Hats, but we never had time to work on it together. This is much more effective. It protects even against the Unforgivables, and all of your body is protected, not just the part the fabric covers, as long as it does cover at least three-quarters of you. It wasn't an easy thing to develop; there is a combination of three potions and five spells on this material." He stroked the tweed covering Dodger's back fondly, and began to unbutton the coat to free the Crup.

"Well, it's a brilliant idea," said Harry sincerely. "Thanks, George."

"Any time." George clapped him on the shoulder. "See you at Mum's for Sunday dinner?"

"Of course," Harry promised, and watched for a moment as George turned back to his work.


	38. First Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither of them has done this before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Percy, adult. Frottage. Prompt 19, "new".

"This is all new to me," confessed Harry, shaking back his fringe to look deep into Percy's blue eyes.

"Me, too," said Percy, and hissed, arching his back as Harry's thumb stroked across his chest. "Even though I went out with Penny for a long time, we never did all that much."

Harry just nodded. He wasn't sure if Percy even knew that Harry had gone out with Ginny. If not, he didn't feel like this was the time to bring it up; not that there was anything _wrong_ with doing so, but it seemed somehow awkward. He stroked Percy's chest again, delighting in the way that Percy's breath hitched each time he touched a sensitive nipple.

"Merlin -- _Harry_ \--"

Harry leaned forward to capture Percy's lips with his own, glad that they had both already removed their glasses so there was no concern about bumping or breaking them. This quality of kissing, too, was new. Not that Ginny's kisses had not been ardent in their way, but Percy's mouth was somehow stronger, more passionate, even as Percy yielded to him.

His cock throbbed and he twisted his hips to press against Percy's thigh. Percy's hands clutched Harry's arse, pulling him closer, and they rocked together, still desperately kissing, pricks sliding on sweat-damp skin. Percy came first, hot wetness spurting onto Harry's stomach, and Harry groaned and rubbed himself faster until the friction of Percy's skin pushed him over into orgasm too.

They rested, panting, each still touching and exploring the other's body, more with wonder than urgency now. Harry closed his eyes and buried his face against Percy's neck, inhaling the scent of Percy's skin, happier than he had been in a very long time.


	39. The Wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Quidditch World Cup, only Harry and Viktor know there's more at stake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Viktor; kink references. For leela_cat who asked for Viktor. Prompt 81, "shiver".

A shiver went through Harry as he met Viktor's gaze across the clear air. It was Viktor's second time to represent Bulgaria in the World Cup, and Harry's first for England. The entire wizarding world saw this match as a contest more between the two Seekers than the two teams, but only Harry and Viktor knew that there was something even greater at stake.

Viktor had suggested it. Their intermittent affair had necessarily been secret, lest anyone make accusations of collusion and conduct unbecoming to professional Quidditch players. They had encountered each other at a club in Berlin that catered to very specialized tastes, and at the last meeting they had dared to have, back in April, Viktor had proposed that they lay a private wager: whoever caught the Snitch in the World Cup match would have total power over the other for a month. After the game they would go on overlapping long holidays, and rendezvous in secret to carry out the terms of their bet. Harry had agreed to the proposal without hesitation.

Now he sat on his broomstick, waiting for the referee to release the Snitch, and let the doubled need to win fill him with purpose.


	40. Some Like Them Wet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myrtle hadn't expected to see Harry Potter here, but she has no objections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult; voyeurism, wanking, chan (Harry is 14). For curtana who wanted Myrtle. Prompt 4, "wet".

Myrtle leaned forward eagerly as Harry entered the prefects' bathroom. She remembered him well from two years before when he and his friends had used her toilet to mix their Polyjuice Potion, but she hadn't expected to get a chance to see him here unless he became a prefect, and he was still a year too young for that.

The Golden Egg gave it away; Cedric Diggory must have told Harry the password to get in here. Myrtle wriggled with pleasure. Cedric was one of her favourites to watch; he nearly always gave her a good show, although of course he didn't know that she was there to see him. She wondered if Harry would take advantage of the privacy too.

At first she thought she might be disappointed. He put so much foam in the tub that she could see hardly anything except for his wet chest, which was attractive enough and all, but she hoped for more. Perhaps she should get into the tub herself. It was large enough that if she stayed at the far end, he wouldn't feel the chill of her presence. Myrtle didn't especially like watching the prefects from underwater, as the ripples distorted everything, but she might never have another chance to see Harry and she didn't want to miss it.

Sure enough, he _was_ playing with himself, as she had thought he might be from the arm motions she had seen through the bubbles. Young though he was, he really had a lovely prick. Myrtle was a bit of a connoisseur, having had the opportunity to see and compare so many over the years, and Harry's was of a good size and nicely proportioned. She watched, enthralled, as it turned a deeper red under Harry's stroking fingers, and soon pulsed out its pearly load into the water, the viscous blobs dissolving as they drifted down toward Myrtle's end of the tub.

There would be nothing else to see, now. Myrtle slipped back out through the pipes to find out if Harry would now guess what he needed to do with the Golden Egg. If he didn't, she thought, she would give him a hint. He deserved a reward for entertaining her so well.


	41. Saturday Afternoon Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy wants this to be an extra-special tea for Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Percy; schmoop. For swtalmnd who wanted Percy with this prompt.

Percy always made a ritual out of Saturday afternoon tea. This week he had prepared two kinds of sandwiches: cucumber, with its crisp salted pale green rounds on triangles of white bread; and tangy watercress on buttered fingers of wholemeal bread. There were crisp wedges of buttery shortbread, and tiny round spice cakes plump with sultanas and cinnamon under their domed sugar-iced tops.

He rinsed out a teapot with boiling water, measured in the tea carefully, and filled the pot with hot water to steep. He repeated the process with a second teapot and a different tin of tea. While Percy preferred Earl Grey, Harry didn't care for it. He glanced over the tray, nodded to himself, and deftly carried it out to the other room where Harry waited.

"Everything looks marvellous, Percy," said Harry, looking first at the tray and then at Percy, and smiling. "You needn't have gone to so much trouble."

"You know I like to have a proper tea," said Percy, "and I wanted this one to be special."

"Oh? Why?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"After tea I'll explain," said Percy, flushing slightly.

When only crumbs remained on the plates and dregs in the pots, Harry tipped his tea cup over to let the last drops drain, looked at the leaves in the bottom, and grinned at Percy. "Too bad I don't remember anything much from that part of Divination class, or perhaps I could find out why you wanted this tea to be special."

Percy's heart was beating so loudly that he thought Harry must be able to hear it too. He reached into the pocket of his robes and closed his hand around a tiny box, withdrawing it slowly. The words he had practiced sounded limp and foolish in his ears as he spoke them.

"Would you like to have tea with me like this every week for the rest of our lives?"

He held out the box to Harry, who took it and opened it to see, nestled inside, the plain platinum band Percy had chosen.

Harry cleared his throat, but his voice still cracked as he said, "I can't think of anyone I'd rather have tea with, forever."

Percy held Harry tight and kissed him. Now he could feel Harry's heart pounding just as hard as his own.


	42. Instruction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius enjoys teaching Harry... perhaps a little too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, adult; various kink references. For felaine who requested Lucius. Prompt 36, "mine".

Harry is the most willing pupil I have ever had, eager to drink in every drop of sexual knowledge I share with him -- quite literally, at times. More eager than Dexter Avery, or Evan Rosier, or even Severus Snape, and I _never_ thought I would find anyone with the same bright thirst for knowledge as Severus. Of course, _his_ interests were perhaps more wide-ranging... but no matter.

I am instructing Harry as slowly as I dare, reminding him again and again that it is not enough to be _shown_ a technique, or even try it once or twice. Practice is what truly develops one's skills. He has long since grasped this when it comes to magic, but for some reason thinks that sex should be easier. It is not, not even when more tender emotions are involved.

No such emotion exists between us... not yet. To my dismay, I am finding that each time I make Harry mine in body, I desire more and more that he might be mine in heart as well. It is an absurd desire, and well do I know that. Harry is the same age as my own son Draco, after all, and whatever his reasons for choosing to ask me to be his teacher in these matters, I very much doubt that it was with the intention of giving himself to me in more than body, and _that_ only of necessity.

Still, from time to time I think I see something in his eyes when he looks at me, something that is more than a respect for my teaching, more than a challenge to instruct him in increasingly diverse means of sexual gratification. When he impales himself on me, riding me to his own pleasure; when I initiate him to the pleasure/pain of hot wax fallen drop by drop on sensitive skin; when he learns how to bind me and the bliss true submission can bring -- with every new piece of knowledge transmitted there is a moment when the hunger in his eyes seems to be a hunger for _me_ , for _Lucius Malfoy_ , not merely for the body that shares pleasure with him or the mind that teaches him.

It is a foolish hope, no doubt. Yet I cling to it, foolishly, and dole out my instruction bit by bit in the hope that the more time we spend together, the more likely it is he will develop a true attachment.

My own feelings for him are complex. I remain grateful that he saved Draco, the reason for our bargain in the first place. I resent that his triumph shamed me and mine. I envy his youth and success. Above all I desire him physically, more than I would care to admit to anyone, even to him. In a way I am grateful for the difference in our ages. Were I my son's age, I doubt I could control my reactions enough to teach Harry as I agreed.

I am no Seer to tell the future. Neither tea leaves nor crystal balls nor the movement of the stars has ever told _me_ what would come to pass, nor do I put any faith in others' predictions on my behalf. I can only follow the course I have chosen, and see what may transpire.

My immediate future, however, I know well. Harry and I have our next lesson in half an hour. I have already selected the items I will teach him to use on this occasion; he will learn the delights of paddle, cane, and whip. It is a lesson I greatly anticipate, whether or not it ends by serving my larger purpose with him.


	43. Forsaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Harry's penchant for saving others has limits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Voldemort. For stasia, who asked for Voldemort's bit of soul. Prompt 10, "precious".

When Harry saw the huddled snivelling shape lying there under the bench, he had a moment's impulse to cross over to it. The thing was an infant, naked and blood-spattered, in worse condition than Harry had doubtless been when he was left at the Dursleys'. Surely there was someone, somewhere, who thought it precious, who would give anything to help it, to save it.

Yet some doubt held him back, some unconscious recognition that if he touched the crying infant, soothed it, he would regret that choice. Instead he turned away and walked off along the bleached-looking, strangely clean platform.


	44. Strike a New Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus's decision to return to teaching does not make Harry happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU; canon-compliant only through _Half-Blood Prince_. Harry/Severus. For cruisedirector who wanted Snape. My muse decided to go way, way back and produce a new instalment in a very old unfinished fic, "He Plays at Hazard," and take it in a wholly unexpected direction, but I tried hard to make this piece stand alone. Prompt 85, "wash".

"I must go to Diagon Alley today," said Snape over toast the next morning. His expression suggested anything but pleasure at the idea.

"Why? What do you need there? Perhaps I could get it for you," suggested Harry. He poured himself a second cup of tea and added milk and three generous spoons of sugar, ignoring Snape's grimace.

"I require new robes. Not something that you can do for me, Harry."

"Probably not, no. But what do you need new robes for? Those you have seem plenty good enough for me," Harry said. "It isn't as though we go out to the opera, or fancy restaurants, or anything."

"Hogwarts expects a certain level of respectability," said Snape. "My present attire is becoming threadbare, and unlike certain former professors, I still have sufficient gold in Gringotts to purchase replacements when necessary."

Harry scowled at the tacit criticism of Lupin, but let it pass. Far more important was the fact that Severus had just implicitly stated that he was going to accept Headmistress McGonagall's invitation to return to Hogwarts.

"I thought you didn't like teaching," he said bluntly.

Snape shrugged. "It is employment, in a relatively congenial environment. I cannot hide here in the old Black house forever." He fiddled with the crust of his toast and would not meet Harry's eyes.

"So you're leaving me?" Harry swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. Not that he'd thought things would last forever between himself and Snape... but it had only been a few weeks. Had he done something to make Snape's feelings change? Had he pushed too hard? "What if I promise not to pester you about wanting to sleep alone?"

"It has nothing to do with that," Snape dismissed the question. "I cannot live on your charity, Harry. Sooner or later I will need to work again, and Minerva's offer is a good one. I can teach Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"The first person to do so for more than a single year since before my parents were in school." Harry swallowed again. "I... congratulations, I suppose, Severus. I suppose you can't miss this opportunity."

"You could come back with me and finish out your seventh year." Now Snape looked at him.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Back to school, after everything that's happened? Be there with you as my professor again, after what we've been to each other... what I _thought_ we've been, anyhow? I don't think I could stand that."

"You have endured greater trials," said Snape, his voice soft.

"Only because I had no choice." Harry swept his hand sideways in a gesture of negation, and knocked over his teacup. Tea washed across the table, staining the cloth. "Fuck. Kreacher!"

The house-elf appeared and quickly cleaned up the spill as Harry apologized, then vanished with a pop. The accident had made Harry pause to consider, however.

"I just think it would be incredibly hard to go back and be a student again now, and having you around, but without being able to be together the way we are now... it would be horrible."

"It will only be more difficult to go back later on, and you might well regret not finishing. There are jobs you can get with only O.W.L. exams, but they're not the sort of thing _you_ would enjoy for very long. I seem to recall Minerva mentioning once that you wanted to become an Auror, and believe me, that will not be possible if you don't sit your N.E.W.T.s," said Snape.

Stubbornly Harry shook his head. "If they won't make an exception in my case, I'll find something else to do with myself. I could look into professional Quidditch, maybe."

"Harry... I understand that you're angry with me for making the decision to return to Hogwarts to teach, but don't let that push you into refusing to do so yourself." Snape sighed. "I knew you would feel this way."

"But it matters more that you do what _you_ want."

Snape's patience visibly snapped. "Not just what _I_ want, Harry. What would be best for _both_ of us. If you refuse to return to school, that is your decision. You're of age and no one can compel you to go. In that case, though, it is also best that you and I part now, before... well. No matter."

"Before what?" Harry demanded.

"I have said over and over again that I am too old for you," said Snape, "and I daresay this proves it."

"You're saying I'm being childish?"

"Aren't you?"

Harry glared at him. "Do _you_ want to be sitting in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, seeing me, thinking of going to bed together and knowing that we can't, for a whole year?"

"Ten months or so," Snape corrected, "and no, I _don't_ especially want that, but I can live with it if it means that you'll be able to pursue your dream of being an Auror." His hand trembled, only slightly but Harry saw it, as he reached for his teacup and raised it to his lips. "There are always compromises in life... but throwing away a dream needlessly is not one I will permit you to make, not if there is any way I can prevent it."

"Oh," said Harry in a small voice. "I didn't understand."

"It might not be quite as bad as you think, Harry. You'll be busy with all your classes, as I will be with mine. I believe that both Miss Granger and Mister Weasley are strongly considering returning. I would be surprised if Miss Granger decided otherwise, and if you are there, I should think they both will return as well. You won't be the only one beyond your year. I am certain Minerva will find some way to accommodate you in the dormitory."

"It'll still be rotten to see you, but not _see_ you," Harry muttered, but Snape was beginning to persuade him.

"As to that... given that Minerva is already aware of our relationship, I might be able to convince her that we should be permitted to spend a night together each week, as long as we are extremely discreet. I could not, of course, be your professor for Defence, but that would be true in any event. If I provide her with my lesson plans, she can instruct you individually as much as necessary, and you can practise with the other students in the class," said Snape.

"Once a week?" Harry focussed on what was most important to him just now.

"I hope that often." Snape's mouth quirked. "You can tell your friends you have detention, as long as you return to the Gryffindor tower before they wake the next morning."

"Hermione will figure it out, but I'll convince her to keep quiet about it, her and Ron both," said Harry absently. "Yeah. This might work out after all."

"Good," said Snape quietly. Under his breath, so that Harry guessed he was not supposed to hear, he added, "I promised I'd look after you and yours, Lily. See? I do keep my word."


	45. All Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Harry had had to guess with whom this might happen, it wouldn't have been Neville. But it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Neville. For angela_snape. Prompt 68, "come what may".

Neither of them had meant for it to happen, Harry was sure of that. He'd never considered that he might find another man attractive, not in any serious way, and if anyone had asked him to speculate about the possibility, it wouldn't have been Neville who would have come to his mind.

And yet it had happened. They had had their usual weekly pub night, and gone back to Harry's flat where they talked and played a few desultory hands of Exploding Snap, and then somehow they had both realized their mutual attraction, and things had progressed naturally from there.

Naturally. That was the key. Harry hadn't felt shy or awkward or embarrassed with Neville, even though neither of them really knew what he was doing. Neville had seemed to feel the same; Harry had never seen him so relaxed and confident in himself.

Resolutely, Harry found a quill and a piece of parchment and sat down to write to Ginny. It might be cowardly to do it that way instead of speaking directly, but Harry dreaded the confrontation they might have if Ginny's temper got the better of her, and come what might, he could not give Neville up.


	46. On Impulse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has invited George to spend a holiday in Cornwall with him... without quite knowing why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/George. For secretsolitaire, who wanted George. Prompt 97, "shelter".

Harry couldn't identify the impulse that had led him to ask George if he'd like to go on holiday together to Cornwall. Perhaps it was simply the sense that someone who had always been as fun-loving as George would enjoy doing all the traditional, even childish, Muggle holiday activities; as had indeed been the case.

They had gone to Land's End and Penzance and Truro, visited a fun fair and eaten spun sugar and ice creams and gone on rides that spun them about until they were both nearly sick, and generally had a roaring good time doing all the sorts of things that neither of them had really had a chance to do as children.

After nearly a week of that, today they had decided to take a break from being tourists and spend the day flying. The weather had been beautiful when they began in the morning, and still fine when they had stopped to devour sandwiches at midday, but now a sudden squall had sprung up, drenching them.

George flew close in to Harry and gestured toward a large copse of trees ahead and to the left on the hillside. He shouted, but Harry could only dimly make out,"... shelter there...," over the rain pounding his skull.

He swooped down behind George to the edge of the evergreens. They were thickly planted, and it was still more or less dry under their spreading branches.

Harry couldn't keep his eyes off the way George's wet shirt clung to him, outlining every muscle on his chest. When he saw that George had noticed his stare, he flushed and looked away.

"Harry?" George sounded almost as nervous as Harry felt.

That gave him courage enough to meet George's eyes, and take a step that put them into each other's arms.


	47. Cheat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry doesn't know why Cedric wants to talk to him, in private.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cedric/Harry preslash. For elfflame, who wanted Cedric. Prompt 33, "false".

"Harry, wait up, do you have a minute?"

"Er... not really. I have to be at Herbology in about four minutes," said Harry.

"Oh, right. Could you meet me after dinner tonight then, in the Charms classroom? By yourself," Cedric asked.

"I suppose so. Look, I'm going to be late. I'll see you then."

Harry hurried out to the greenhouses, puzzled as to why Cedric wanted to meet with him in private.

After dinner he waited as promised in Professor Flitwick's classroom. The moments ticked past and he was just beginning to wonder if Cedric had played him false, or if he had somehow misunderstood, when Cedric finally arrived.

"Sorry, Harry. Professor Sprout wanted to talk to me and I couldn't get away. I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

"That's okay." Harry shrugged. "Why did you want to talk to me?"

"I wanted to thank you again for warning me that the first task was dragons," said Cedric. "If I hadn't known ahead of time... well, let's just say that I'm not sure I would have made it through alive, all right? I was really impressed with how you handled yours, by the way."

"Thanks," said Harry. He was still confused as to why Cedric had felt the need to be so secretive about this. Perhaps it was because knowing about the dragons ahead of time _had_ technically been cheating; even though all of the competitors knew about it, the rest of the school hadn't, and still didn't. "Um. Have you started trying to figure out the egg clue yet?"

Cedric shook his head. "I thought I'd take a little break, maybe begin trying over the holidays or at the beginning of next term. You?"

"Same here. My egg made a horrible noise when I opened it, so I thought maybe when fewer people were around would be good plan."

"Yeah." Cedric stepped a little nearer. "Although with the Yule Ball this year I don't know that there _will_ be a lot fewer people around over the holiday."

"That's true." Harry made a face. "The Yule Ball. I still have to find someone to go with."

"Me, too." Cedric was very close to Harry now. "Harry..."

Harry had to tilt his head back to meet Cedric's eyes. "What?"

"I wish I could go with _you_ ," said Cedric softly, and kissed him.

Harry was too surprised to do anything for a moment, but then he found himself kissing Cedric back.

Cedric's arms around him were warm and strong and somehow reassuring, telling Harry that it was _not_ wrong to be kissing Cedric here in the deserted Charms classroom. When the kiss ended, Harry gave Cedric a somewhat shaky smile.

"I wish I could go with _you_ to the Ball, too."

Cedric smiled back. "Let's just see what happens at the Ball, then, whoever we each officially take as a date."

"One thing," said Harry. He felt awkward bringing it up, but it mattered a lot that Cedric not think him a liar. "I really _didn't_ put my name in the Goblet. Do you believe me?"

"Yeah, I do. I know what happened to the Weasley twins, those beards sprouting. I don't see how you _could_ have done it... and you'd have had to be crazy to _want_ to, anyhow. I have three years of school on you and I don't think _I_ know enough to make it through all the tasks, not if the next two are anything like the first. So yes, I believe you."

"All right then," said Harry, and shyly kissed Cedric once more. "I'd better go now or my friends will wonder where I am. I'll see you."

"I'll see you too, Harry. Very soon."


	48. Make It Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Neville comes home in a fury, Harry tries to make it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Neville, adult. For coffee_n_cocoa, who wanted Neville. Prompt 82, "fury".

In all the years Harry had known Neville, he had never seen him in such a fury. Neville's eyes were flashing with so much rage that Harry would not have been surprised if actual sparks had shot from them and set the kitchen cupboards on fire. Clearly more was called for then their usual quiet evening Butterbeer.

"Come here," Harry said, and put a large glass of firewhisky into Neville's hand before leading him into the living room and settling them both down on the sofa. "What on earth has happened?"

Neville took a gulp of firewhisky and coughed. "That -- that -- that _cow_ , Rita Skeeter. You know she's published a book to mark the tenth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and the fall of Voldemort? And in it are lots of short chapters, little biographies of everyone who did something especially important."

"What, you didn't get a chapter to yourself?" Harry tried to joke.

"Oh, I got one," said Neville grimly, taking another gulp. "She starts mine off by implying that my parents were too weak to withstand the Cruciatus curse, next dredges up all the difficulties I had at school but doesn't mention my Outstanding N.E.W.T. in Herbology, and finishes by suggesting that I only killed Nagini through sheer dumb luck. I suppose the only thing she _didn't_ say was that I'm a home wrecker for taking you away from Ginny... unless she put that in your chapter or Ginny's. I don't know."

"She _couldn't_ call you a home wrecker; Ginny and I were never married," Harry pointed out seriously. "I'm sorry, Neville. Rita is a horrible person and almost as bad of a writer."

He thought about it for a moment. "Didn't Padma Patil go into journalism? I seem to remember seeing her by-line occasionally in the _Prophet_. Maybe we could get _her_ to do an interview with you for _Witch Weekly_ or something, and set the record straight."

"That's an idea," Neville agreed, although he still sounded extremely grumpy about the whole thing. He leaned back against Harry's chest. "It helps just to tell you how angry I am, though; you always make me feel better."

Harry kissed Neville's cheek and took the nearly empty glass from his unresisting fingers. "I know something that will make you feel better still."

He unfastened Neville's trousers and extracted his cock.

"Mmm, that's lovely," Neville murmured as Harry began to stroke and fondle him. "Maybe a little lube, though?"

" _Accio_ lube." The bottle zipped in from their bedroom and Harry poured a dollop onto his palm.

"Perfect." Neville settled himself more comfortably between Harry's legs. His cock was almost at full stand now. Over Neville's shoulder, Harry could see the scarlet head appearing and disappearing between his fingers as he moved them up and down. His own prick was pulsing but he ignored it to focus on Neville. He increased the tempo of his strokes and nipped at Neville's ear. Neville's hips tilted, pressing his arse harder against Harry's groin.

"Yeah, Harry, _yeah_ , fuck that's good..." Neville's words trailed off into the heavy sharp pants that signalled he was close to orgasm.

Harry redoubled his efforts and pulled Neville more tightly to him with his free arm. They rocked together, the sofa springs squeaking, until with a muffled groan Neville came into Harry's hand. Harry was on the brink himself; he worked his other hand between them, sliding it down into the waistband of his trousers to grapple with his cock. It took only a moment before Harry was as relaxed with pleasure as Neville.

"That was fantastic," murmured Neville. He twisted around to give Harry a long kiss. "Different from usual; I loved it."

Harry kissed him back again. "And do you feel better now?"

" _Much_ better," agreed Neville. "If this is what I get for it, Rita can write trash about me every week."

"Not really," said Harry.

"No, not really," said Neville. "It _is_ a bit tempting, though."


	49. Facing the Inevitable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry realises he is a lamb for the slaughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 12, "courage".

The knowledge that in the end he would have to kill Voldemort or Voldemort would kill him had been bad enough, but when he grasped that the only way to destroy Voldemort was through his own death, Harry felt sick and cold all over. He had been led like a lamb to the slaughter; worse, because he could comprehend his own fate. Death was inevitable. He could run and die a coward, or face his enemy and hope to save at least some of those he loved. Harry took a deep breath and went out to do what he must.


	50. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione wonders if Ron saw something she didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Hermione. Prompt 78, "spin".

Even as Harry held me in his arms and we went spinning around the tent, Ron's words echoed in my head.

 _I saw the two of you together yesterday._

Together. Well, yes, we had been together, the same way as always -- walking and talking, as friends.

I tried to think that it was the Horcrux that had made Ron misunderstand, made him angry. The same reactions happened to Harry and to me... maybe a little less to me than either of them. I wasn't sure why unless it was that because Voldemort was male, his Horcrux affected the boys more than it did me, a girl.

The locket only twisted things, though, it didn't seem to invent them altogether, which suggested that maybe Ron _did_ see something between Harry and me that was more than the friendship we'd shared for years.

Harry's hands were warm on mine as we danced together, and when he smiled at me I smiled back.

I loved him. There was no question of that. I was risking my own life to be here helping him, and I'd even been willing to give up my family for what we were doing together now. It wasn't for Harry himself, though. It was for the purpose he served, to destroy someone whose goals endangered nearly everything that I thought good. If it had been Neville or anyone else instead of Harry, I would have still been there.

I think Harry understood how I felt. He had urged me to dance to cheer me up, if only for a few moments, and held me close for an instant when the music stopped, but then he let me go. I had never really thought of him before as perhaps being more than just a friend, but now... now I wondered.


	51. Slow Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus repressed his yearnings for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Severus. For Alisanne who wanted Severus/Harry with prompt 11, "slow".

Slow heat crept along his veins every time he looked at Harry. It had done for years, since Harry had been far too young. The eyes he had loved from his own boyhood, set in the face and body of one whom he had desired, would have been willing to do anything for, but who had spurned and mocked him until they became bitter enemies -- the combination was irresistible.

He managed to keep his yearning from Albus, he thought, and if the Dark Lord sensed some fragment of it? Well, lust and power and hate were things that he understood well.

Severus would never have acted on his desire. Repressing it took him to the opposite extreme, making him cold and harsh towards Harry from the first time he saw the boy. He resigned himself to Harry's dislike -- hatred might not have been too strong a word -- and later, to his own death. The miracle was not his survival, but rather that Harry had compassion enough for him to seek him when all hope should have been lost, and find him in time to be saved.

Now when Severus watched Harry and felt the familiar slow heat rising, he knew it to be matched by a like heat in return.


	52. Alive?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is certain that Snape must have survived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could be preslash Harry/Severus if you squint hard. Prompt 20, "belief".

He'd seen Snape die, watched his eyes glaze over, caught the last strands of memory that Snape had to give. Surely no one could survive Nagini's bite; certainly Voldemort thought not, or he would have taken further measures.

And yet belief was strong in Harry that somehow, however improbably, Snape must be alive. When he went to speak with Professor McGonagall in the rooms that had always been reserved for the Head of Hogwarts, no portrait of Snape scowled from the walls. When they lined up the bodies of the fallen in long rows on the grounds, Snape appeared with neither the attackers nor the defenders. True, he had been stricken in the Shrieking Shack, not on the Hogwarts grounds proper, but when Harry looked the Shack was empty, and no one he could find admitted to having moved Snape's body.

Snape _must_ be alive. That was the only explanation that made sense. It wasn't as though Harry was unfamiliar with the idea of death and couldn't accept it, after all. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore... now Lupin and Colin and Tonks and more others than he wanted to remember.

It wasn't denial or wishful thinking, as Hermione had so delicately hinted, that made Harry certain that Snape must somehow have survived and escaped; whether on his own or with help was beside the point.

Harry didn't hate Snape any longer; he hoped that someday Snape would turn up again so that he could say so, tell him that now that Harry understood what Snape had been doing all along and why, he asked for forgiveness.


	53. Two Roads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's grand plans seem to be coming to fruition a little faster than he had expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, future Harry/Draco. For Felaine, who actually requested Harry/Draco for this... it ended up more Harry/Lucius, but with implied future Harry/Draco at least! Prompt 71, "collide".

Harry bounded down the steps inside the Leaky Cauldron. He and Lucius had just had an excellent shag, and Harry had come to fetch them up a couple of drinks before they had another go.

It was rare that they met here for their trysts; there was too great a chance of discovery, and neither of them cared to have their involvement known. Today, however, the Leaky had been the most convenient location for them both, and they had taken separate rooms as an extra precaution.

Not Lucius, but Harry had instigated the affair, when Lucius had offered Harry anything in repayment for saving Draco's life. Harry had seized on the opportunity to learn a great deal more about sex. He had an ulterior motive for the request: his ultimate intention was to use his newly-acquired skills with Lucius's son. Harry had had a secret crush on Draco since their fourth year at Hogwarts.

Lucius's lessons were enlightening, and Harry enjoyed them for their own sake. At times he was almost tempted to continue the liaison indefinitely, whether or not he was successful with Draco. He had surprised an occasional look in Lucius's eye that suggested Lucius would not be averse to continuing either, although Harry had never told him that it was Draco with whom Harry planned to use his new knowledge. He had no idea how Lucius might react.

Humming, he went up to the bar and asked Tom for a bottle of Old Ogden's. "Only hold it for a few minutes; I need to use the loo. I'll be right back," he said.

He had nearly finished when the lavatory door opened.

"Hello, Harry."

Harry's heart and his prick pounded in rapid time as he turned his head toward Draco Malfoy.

 _Oh, fuck._

"Draco. Hello." Harry swallowed, willing his cock to remain quiescent. Was he mistaken, or had Draco flicked a glance at his bared flesh? Without apparent hesitation, Draco stepped up beside Harry and began to urinate. Harry tucked himself away and zipped up his trousers.

While he was washing his hands, just as Harry was drying his own and about to leave, Draco said, "Want to have a drink with me?"

Harry's desires collided. On the one hand, Lucius was upstairs waiting no doubt impatiently for Harry to return. On the other, the whole point of being with Lucius was to prepare for trying to get together with Draco, and here Draco was suggesting it. Well, suggesting a _drink_ , not a shag, but it was a promising first step.

"Er," said Harry, thinking fast. "I'm actually staying here tonight. Let me just pop up to my room and I'll meet you in the bar in a few minutes."

He wondered if Draco might suggest going up with him, but thankfully Draco only nodded.

"I'll find us a table."

Mouth dry, Harry headed upstairs.

"There you are." Lucius was lounging naked on the bed, looking delightfully dishevelled and satiated from their earlier exertions. He frowned and said, "Didn't Tom have any whisky?"

Harry had completely forgotten to pick up the bottle. "Yes. I mean no. I'm sure he has, but I was interrupted, and I came to see if you'd mind if I stayed down there for an hour or two. I'll get Tom to send the bottle up if you'd like."

"An hour or two?" Lucius's eyebrows went up. "Harry, what's going on?"

He would have to say that Draco had asked him to have a drink. If he lied and said it was someone else, Lucius might well come downstairs and see Draco for himself anyway.

"Draco. I ran into him down there and he suggested having a drink together. I was so surprised I couldn't think of a way out of it," Harry explained.

Lucius eyed him narrowly. "I see. Very well. You won't mind if I happen to come in and join the two of you in perhaps twenty minutes, will you?"

Mutely Harry shook his head. How could he say no? Lucius wouldn't accept a refusal anyway.

Chuckling, Lucius drew his finger along the line of Harry's jaw. "Don't worry. I shall be very discreet; Draco won't guess a thing."

Harry only hoped that Lucius would not, either.


	54. And in the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For coffee_n_cocoa, who wanted Harry/Neville for this prompt. Title borrowed from the Beatles song "The End": "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make." Prompt 42, "memory".

Waves broke upon the rocks below, their gentle roar more soothing than pure quiet would have been.

"I wish I had that Remembrall your Gran sent you once at school," said Harry. "So many years... it's hard to keep all the memories straight."

There had been Hogwarts, of course, where they had met: Harry small and scrawny with his glasses perched unsteadily, awed to be a wizard and determined to succeed; Neville plump and fearful, equally astonished to be there, convinced he was nearly a Squib but trying desperately to do his best. Unprepossessing, both of them, at eleven, but heroes less than seven years later. By then Harry was already tired of fame, and Neville quickly learned to be.

They had become close friends after the war, though it took a few more years before they realized that they loved each other and wanted to share their lives together.

A good life it had been, especially after they had adopted Damon and Calista. Their children were long grown now too, and their grandchildren, and a great-grandchild was expected next month.

Harry didn't try to stop the tears that trickled down his wrinkled cheeks at that thought.

"I wish you could have been here to see Juniper's child born. You were so happy to hear the news." He looked at the chair beside him, covered in the familiar worn red upholstery. He could almost see Neville sitting there, smiling, reaching out to touch Harry's knee. Had it only been a few weeks?

Harry rested his hand on the arm of Neville's chair, absently noting the spots and wrinkles, the twisted tendons that showed through his skin. He would catch no more Snitches, fight no more duels, caress no one in love any longer.

"I think... I think I'll be with you again soon," said Harry.


	55. On Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes afire when he's with Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry. Innuendo only. Prompt 41, "burning".

This desire is a flame burning inside, and if I don't feed the conflagration, it will consume me whole.

My recognition of my longings came on me gradually. Perhaps it was when I saw Charlie kissing Viktor behind the marquee at Ron and Hermione's wedding that it first struck me that, after all, it wasn't girls that turned me on, but boys. I was thankful to have realized the truth in time not to have yet proposed to Ginny; instead I broke off with her, and gave a good deal of thought to what and who I really desired.

When I saw Draco through the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies one Saturday afternoon, I knew. My obsession with him in sixth year, which I had told myself was only to do with my suspicion that he was a Death Eater, had in reality been about something else entirely. He felt the same about me, to my surprise but eternal delight, and we ended up in bed together that very same evening. Why delay when you have all love to gain?

Draco is the only one who can slake the fire of my need, though phoenix-like, it always returns soon again.


	56. Practical Demonstration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingsley promised he could get Harry off in a new way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Kingsley, adult; iceplay and waxplay. For secretsolitaire. Prompt 56, "run".

Kingsley held an ice cube between his fingers, watching it melt, one slow shivering drop after another falling onto Harry's bare skin.

He traced the chill trail from one pebbled nipple to the other, across Harry's pale stomach and down to his ruddy cock. When the first icy drop kissed his slit, Harry moaned.

"Oh God... Kingsley..."

Drop followed drop the length of Harry's prick, running down over his bollocks. Harry's eyes were closed, all his attention focused on the sensations he could not escape, bound hand and foot as he was.

The piece of ice was nearly melted. Kingsley transferred it to his other hand and picked up the candle that stood waiting, already lighted. He touched the ice to Harry's perineum at the same moment he let the first drops of hot wax fall onto Harry's torso.

"Oh!" Harry shuddered convulsively, pearly jets of spunk pulsing from his cock, mingling with the cold water and hot wax.

Kingsley smiled and kissed him. He had promised Harry that he could get him to come without touching his cock directly, and now he had proved it.


	57. Compassion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry can't turn his back on the infant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gen ficlet. For cruisedirector, who said, "I would love to read something in which Harry tells Dumbledore to stuff it and does NOT leave warped!baby!Voldemort!soul to die." Prompt 23, "just".

All the while that Dumbledore was talking to him, Harry's thoughts kept straying back to the bloody infant Dumbledore had urged him to abandon.

He knew who -- or perhaps _what_ was the better term -- it was. Voldemort. The embodiment of Voldemort's final Horcrux, created unexpectedly in Harry himself. He understood that this place wasn't real, that it was just his brain's way of visualising the peculiar half-alive state he was in, and that therefore the infant wasn't precisely real either... but that didn't matter.

To defeat Voldemort in the real world, Harry knew that all the Horcruxes had to be destroyed first, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving a helpless infant to die. Surely there had to be some other way?

When Dumbledore stopped talking, Harry nodded at him. "I understand what has to be done, and I accept the burden... and the consequences of my actions." Then he turned his back and hurried to where the infant lay, still feebly kicking.

He crouched down and awkwardly picked it up, straightening with an effort. It quieted at his touch. Harry stroked its cheek with one finger, ignoring the blood and mucus that still smeared the tiny body. "After your mother died, there was no one to love you, was there?" he whispered, a surge of compassion running through him. "I could so easily have become like you, poor thing, poor Tom. Perhaps, with love, you won't have to remain what you became."

Holding the baby close, he took a deep breath, and let his consciousness return to his body.


	58. A Fresh Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's asked Draco to meet him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For aome, who wanted Harry/Draco. Prompt 47, "curious".

Harry waited, watching the door of the Leaky Cauldron, a glass of butterbeer on the table before him. He didn't know whether Draco would appear or not. The note he had sent had said merely, _We need to meet_ , and named the time and place. He hoped Draco would be curious enough to come and find out what Harry wanted.

The minutes ticked by. It was now half past the hour and Harry had nearly decided to give up and go browse through the shops in Diagon Alley when Draco came in, glanced around the room, and approached Harry's table.

"You're late," said Harry, blurting the first thing that came to mind. "I thought you weren't coming."

Draco gave him a look that mingled bitterness and exasperation. "I'm under house arrest, Potter. The only reason I'm here is because it was _you_ who asked. My gaolers made me drink truth serum and swear by my family's honour that I would come back before they gave me permission to leave, and even then I was not allowed to Apparate here on my own; I had an escort who brought me by Side-Along."

"I'm sorry," said Harry, startled. "Honestly, I didn't realise it would be so much trouble. Why are you under house arrest?"

"To make sure I don't flee the country before the Wizengamot can interrogate me and decide if I'm to be allowed to go free, or if I have to go to Azkaban." Draco shivered. "The hearing is scheduled for next week. But you didn't bring me here to talk about that, you didn't know... What _did_ you ask me to come here for?"

"This." Harry brought out Draco's wand and placed it on the table between them.

Draco's fingers stretched longingly towards it, but otherwise he remained still. "What do you want for its return?"

"Nothing. It's yours, and I'm giving it back to you."

Slowly Draco reached for the wand, touched it. Some of the tension in his face smoothed out as his fingertips caressed the sleek wood. "It's mine, but it doesn't feel the same. What have you done to it?"

"Used it for a few spells, that's all," said Harry. "Nothing that would harm it, or you, now."

Draco pointed the wand at an empty glass sitting on the table. " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The glass lifted up, circled Harry's head, and settled back down on the scarred wood.

"I guess it will still work for me, anyway," said Draco. He took a deep breath and added, "Thanks."

"Of course. Look, if you don't have to return immediately, would you like to stay and have a butterbeer with me? I'll buy; if you're under house arrest, I don't suppose they let you bring any money with you."

Draco hesitated so long that Harry thought he would refuse, but finally he nodded agreement. Harry went up to the bar and brought back two more butterbeers. Settling back down in his seat, he said, "I really _didn't_ know that you weren't able to leave your house, or I would've gone there. I've been avoiding reading the _Daily Prophet_." He made a face.

"I would too." Draco took a deep gulp of his butterbeer. "Er. I suppose I ought to thank you for saving my life in the Room of Requirement... I never wanted that to happen."

"I didn't think so." Harry looked at Draco, remembering those terrifying moments when he thought the Fiendfyre would catch them. It had been terrifying, but exhilarating in a strange way, and there had been something else, too...

From the faint colour that stained Draco's cheeks, Harry suspected the same memory had crossed his mind as well. "I..." he floundered, not sure how to say what was suddenly on his mind. Instead he mumbled, "If you need to thank me, I need to apologise, for using that _Sectumsempra_ curse on you. I didn't know what it would do, but that's no excuse. I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Draco shrugged. Then the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "Maybe we should call it all even, pretend we've never met before, and start over as if we were strangers? Hello, I'm Draco Malfoy."

"Harry Potter. That's not a bad idea, really." Harry grinned. "Although I _was_ going to offer to be a character witness for you, if you wanted, and if I'd never seen you before that might be a bit difficult."

"True," Draco acknowledged. "But -- you'd speak for me?"

Harry nodded. "If you think it would do any good."

"You can't be _that_ thick." Draco snorted. "Of course it would. So yes, that would be marvellous, and thank you."

"Maybe... maybe afterward, assuming that you're free, we could meet again, talk, get to actually know each other?" Harry felt shy about asking, but he didn't know if he would ever have a better opportunity. "Start from square one, as you suggested. Maybe..."

He couldn't quite articulate his hope that they could become friends, certainly not his feeling of attraction that was potentially more than just friendship.

"I'd like that." Draco lifted grey eyes to meet Harry's. "I'd like that very much."


	59. Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry knows that he doesn't know much about the wizarding world, yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For jelazakazone who wanted Harry/???; I chose Ron. This is part of the loose Harry/Hermione/Ron series, but also stands alone. Prompt 8, "conceal".

Harry really didn't understand the wizarding world yet, and he knew it. There seemed to be hundreds of things that someone raised in a wizarding family knew and took for granted, but that Harry had no clue about, and worse yet often didn't even realise he was ignorant of.

One of those things was whether it was acceptable to fancy other boys. He certainly knew that many Muggles disapproved -- Uncle Vernon made no secret of the fact that he was disgusted by what he called "those nasty nancy boys" -- but Harry generally disagreed with Uncle Vernon's ideas, and from snatches he had seen on the telly and overheard, he was quite sure that not _all_ Muggles shared that opinion. But were wizards the same?

Harry didn't want to risk appearing ignorant. He resolved to conceal as best he could that he was starting to think of Ron in ways that went beyond the friendship they had shared since the day they had met. Nor did he want to confide in Hermione, although if she didn't know whether wizards thought it was all right to be gay she could certainly find out. Harry didn't entirely trust her not to guess his reason for wanting to know. More important, he was uncomfortable about letting anyone learn how he felt, until and unless the day arrived when he told Ron himself.


	60. Creating Beauty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis came to photography in memory of his brother, and nervously asks Harry to be a subject.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future Dennis/Harry. For kaellite, who asked for Harry/Dennis. Prompt 27, "beauty".

Dennis had played around a little bit with cameras before his brother died, but after Colin was gone, he became serious about it. During the summers and then after he had finished at Hogwarts he took courses in photography, learning the principles of composition, experimenting, gradually developing his own style. It took the better part of a decade, but he became quite well-known as an artist, with shows in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds.

Along the way he realised that he was gay, and eventually decided to make that a theme of his art. He didn't necessarily photograph men in erotic or even sensual poses, but often captured his subjects in the midst of ordinary life, merely hinting at their preferences. He might, for instance, photograph a man standing at a bar having a pint: totally innocuous unless one noticed and recognised the meaning of the bandanna in his back left pocket. From time to time he would approach men whom he knew and ask them to serve as models, assuring them that he would not ask them to pose nude unless they wanted to, and that any photographs of that sort would not be made public without their permission.

It was with some trepidation that he asked Harry Potter to be one of his subjects. He remembered Colin telling him that Harry had always been annoyed by Colin's photography at school, and he doubted that Harry had had good experiences with reporters and photographers since. But Harry _was_ gay, that was an open secret, and Dennis very much wanted to photograph him, even if he could never publish the images, even if Harry insisted on remaining fully clothed.

Greatly to Dennis's surprise, Harry did not make any conditions. He seemed thrilled that Dennis would ask him, in fact, and cooperated willingly with all of Dennis's suggestions as to clothing (or lack thereof), poses, and the use of various props and backgrounds.

At the end of the session, when Harry was dressed again, Dennis offered him a drink. Harry accepted.

"Why did you agree to do this?" Dennis asked, watching Harry's throat move as he swallowed.

Harry lowered the glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a curiously young and endearing gesture. "Because I've seen your work," he said. "In the end, all those things that made _me_ famous? All they amounted to was destruction. What _you_ do is to create, and create beauty. I wanted to be part of that somehow."

Nodding, Dennis reached out to clasp Harry's hand. He was flattered beyond measure by the compliment, but all he could manage to say was, "Thank you."


	61. No Paternal Oversight Desired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having drinks with both his father and Harry Potter is not the most comfortable experience Draco has ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For felaine who wanted Harry/Lucius. This is part of the Harry/Lucius, Draco/Harry series, the previous instalment being "Two Roads", but stands alone (I hope). Prompt 38, "fright".

Draco looked from one to the other of the two men sharing his table, unconsciously shaking his head. He had been pleased to run into Harry here tonight, the more so when his tentative suggestion that they have a drink together had been enthusiastically accepted. He had fancied Harry for quite some time, and a few hints in the _Prophet_ indicating that the erstwhile Gryffindor Seeker flew on both sides of the broomstick had given Draco the hope that Harry just might be interested in return.

Normally he would not have minded being joined by his father, either, although the admiration and respect he had felt for Lucius as a little boy had been replaced by more complex, and not always positive, emotions.

Having Lucius _and_ Harry together was uncomfortable, however. Draco would have liked to flirt with Harry a bit, and he sensed that Harry felt the same way in reverse, but the presence of Lucius was inhibiting to both of them. In fact, if anything, it was _Lucius_ who was flirting with Harry, keeping his eyes fixed on the younger man with only occasional glances at his son, and making remarks that could easily be construed as having double meanings.

"I trust you are well, and enjoying all the pleasures that a grateful public can bestow upon you?" Lucius asked Harry with a slight smile.

Harry blushed. "Yes, thank you."

"Sowing a few wild oats, I should imagine."

"I suppose you could say that," muttered Harry, going even redder. He looked at Draco, his eyes hunted, tacitly imploring Draco to say something to help.

"What have you been doing with yourself?" asked Draco.

"Er, what do you mean?"

Draco's question seemed to have disturbed Harry even more; he looked as though he had had some terrible fright. Draco couldn't understand such an extreme response to a simple pleasantry, but he tried again.

"I heard at one point that you were planning to try to join the Aurors," said Draco. "Did you?"

"Oh, yes. For a bit. I was accepted and started the training, but after a few months I realised that I didn't want to be an Auror, not really. I'd had enough of all that sort of thing facing Voldemort." Harry bit his lip, apparently regretting the reference in front of the two Malfoys. "I've started an apprenticeship with old Ollivander, learning wand lore."

"That sounds interesting," Draco replied out of politeness. Personally he didn't see much attraction in such a job, but he supposed Harry knew what he liked.

"It is, actually. There's a great deal more to it than I'd ever thought; each type of wood or core has its own properties, but they can combine in very unexpected ways." Harry's voice was animated. "I've found I really enjoy it."

"Playing about with wands all day does sound delightful," commented Lucius with a slight smirk.

Draco scowled at his father, but said nothing. Any overt reaction would only encourage Lucius further. Harry shifted slightly in his chair, subtly turning away from Lucius. Something bumped Draco, and he realised it was Harry's leg pressing against his own. The thrill of it pulsed through him. He saw Harry wet his lips, and wondered what it would be like to kiss that red mouth. He wished his father would go away; what in Merlin's name was he doing sticking around here? Lucius had finished his drink, and surely he could see that Draco was fine and didn't want or need him there.

Perhaps Lucius had some inkling of Draco's thoughts, for at last he rose. "I suppose I should be getting along; I'll see you this weekend. Your mother says you're planning to visit us?"

"I'll be there Saturday, Father," said Draco.

"Take good care of yourself, Mr Potter," said Lucius to Harry.

Harry merely nodded, blushing again. Draco had never thought he was so easily embarrassed, but it was rather endearing.

"I'm sorry if my father made you uncomfortable," he said, leaning forward, as soon as Lucius had gone. "He has peculiar sense of humour sometimes."

"So I saw." Harry tipped back the last few drops in his glass. "I think another of these is in order, don't you?" At Draco's nod, he went and bought a fresh round.

"It's strange to be here with you like this," said Draco thoughtfully upon Harry's return.

"Perhaps, but in a good way." Harry lifted his glass and clinked it against Draco's. "Cheers."

They both drank. Harry's throat worked as he swallowed.

"Could I ask you something? Maybe this is too soon, but I'm not very good at this sort of thing," said Harry.

Draco felt that thrill down his spine again, as if he already knew what Harry would ask. "Of course."

"Would you consider going to bed with me?" Once again Harry's face was scarlet, but his green eyes pleaded with Draco, who felt a surge of triumph. That was, after all, very much what he desired, and _Harry_ had been the one to do the asking.

"Yes," he said. "Any time you want, Harry."

"How about now?"


	62. (Almost)-Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville and Harry celebrate their birthdays together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For coffee_n_cocoa who requested this pairing. Prompt 59, "birthday".

The weather was fine; they would eat in the garden tonight. Enough sunlight remained into late evening that they would need neither candles nor any magical means of illumination. The air was still warm and smelled of the flowers Neville had planted.

He had also grown most of the produce that Harry had used to prepare the meal: ratatouille, fresh-baked bread, and a green salad, to be followed by sliced fruit and cheese. A bottle of good red wine waited on the table.

"Happy birthday, Neville." Harry hooked an arm around Neville's waist.

Neville turned his head and gave Harry a swift kiss. "Happy _almost_ -birthday, Harry. Is everything ready?"

As they sat down, Harry remarked, "There was a time when I didn't think I would live to be thirty. I didn't think I would even reach eighteen... and now I'm older than my parents ever were."

"It's strange, isn't it?" Neville agreed. He reached across the table to take Harry's hand. "I felt the same, back then, but I'm glad we both survived."

"Me, too. I couldn't imagine life without you now... and I hope we'll still be celebrating like this in fifty years," said Harry.

Neville nodded. "And more."


	63. Leave the Past Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wants to look to the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Percy, for swtalmnd, who asked for this pairing. Prompt 45, "ideals".

Harry kissed Percy's closed eyelids, first the right, then the left. "I never want you to bring it up again," he said firmly. "It's in the past, over and done with, and there's an end of it."

Bright blue eyes opened. Percy blinked at Harry. "But I..."

"No buts." Harry put his fingers over Percy's lips. "You were living by your ideals. You thought you knew how everything ought to be, who ought to be trusted, and you behaved accordingly. I can't blame you for that, not really, not when I know you meant it for the best. You did come to fight when it counted, and that's what matters most. That's enough for me."

Percy laid a kiss on each of Harry's fingers before he reached up and twined them with his own. "All right," he agreed. "Let's leave the past behind us and focus on the future. What do you want from it?"

"The _first_ thing that I want is to make love with you." Harry gave Percy a teasing smile. "After that, who knows?"

"And who cares?" murmured Percy in reply as he took Harry in his arms.


	64. Really Happening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of Harry's dearest wishes is coming true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adult; rimming, oral & anal sex. This fic is part of the Harry/Lucius, Draco/Harry series. Prompt 55, "wishes".

One of Harry's dearest wishes, something he had dreamed about since he was a sixth-year at Hogwarts and perhaps earlier if he was honest about it, was about to become a reality.

He had to keep reminding himself to breathe as he talked to Tom and got one of the rooms at the Leaky Cauldron. Although he had told Draco he already had one, it had actually not been under his name, so now he had to get his own. Luckily Tom still had several available.

Draco was still sitting at the table finishing his drink when Harry hurried back. The way the light caught his cheek bones made him look older, emphasising his resemblance to his father, a phenomenon that made Harry's stomach twist just a little bit. He had been having an affair with Lucius for the past few months; his original intent had been to learn to be a good lover from someone to whom he would not form an attachment, but now he wasn't so sure that had been a good idea. He had learned a great deal, true, but recently he had begun to realise that he cared for Lucius more than he would ever have anticipated, even though his desire for Draco had remained strong.

He certainly had more in common with Draco from any rational standpoint. For one thing they were the same age, and they had had a great deal of interaction at school, though it had not always been positive. Harry had been obsessed with Draco the last year they had been at Hogwarts together, and he strongly suspected that Draco had had similar feelings, even if neither of them had felt himself in a position to act on them then.

"Room five," he said to Draco.

"Excellent." Draco smiled up at him. "I'm ready if you are."

And there was another plus to being with Draco, thought Harry as they left the pub proper and went upstairs. For a number of reasons he and Lucius had to be extremely discreet, whereas if anyone noticed that Harry and Draco had taken a room together, it might be an item in the _Prophet_ 's gossip column, but no one would really care that much. The door to the room shut behind them. It was like all of the rooms at the Leaky Cauldron: a bit musty, with a squeaky floorboard or two, and furnished with an old four-poster bed, a small wardrobe, and a single chair. There were no en suite baths; Harry suspected the building dated from well before indoor plumbing existed at all.

He took a deep breath and confessed, "I'm a little nervous." Thanks to Lucius he knew what he was doing, probably more than Draco, unless Draco had had rather more experience than seemed likely, but Harry had imagined this moment so often, he wanted to make it perfect. Honesty might be a way to defuse the tension, which would be better for them both.

"So am I." Draco stepped closer. "I can't quite believe this is really _happening_ , you know?"

"Yes." Harry pushed up his glasses.

"Maybe you should take those off," suggested Draco.

When Harry did, Draco took them from him and set them carefully down on the window sill. Harry blinked a few times, letting his vision adjust. He _could_ see without glasses, it was just that everything close had blurred edges, and more distant objects faded to mist.

"That's better... although it's a bit funny to see you without them. They're so much a part of your face." Draco's fingertips touched Harry's cheek and the bridge of his nose where the wire rims always made a mark. His fingers were warm. Harry reached and brought Draco's hand to his mouth, kissing each finger in turn before returning to Draco's forefinger and taking it between his lips, his tongue circling the tip.

"Ah," Draco breathed. He moved a step closer, until Harry could feel the heat of his body across the scant space that still separated them. Harry took the next step, pressing them together as he released Draco's finger and let his head tip back to meet Draco's kiss.

There was little to remind Harry of Lucius in _that_. Where Lucius's kisses tended to be powerful, even demanding, Draco held back as though worried that Harry might object. Not until Harry took the lead, coaxing Draco's lips to part, did Harry feel Draco's tongue against his own.

Embraced, they moved toward the bed and fell across it, side by side. Harry nudged his knee between Draco's legs and pulled him closer, still kissing. Already he was almost unbearably aroused, but his experiences with Lucius had taught him the value of restraint.

Draco was slimmer than his father, Harry noticed, running his hands along Draco's body. Not that Lucius was by any means fat; he was a little more muscular than his son, that was all, and Harry supposed that Draco might yet fill out more too. He cupped Draco's arse, squeezing its firm resilience through Draco's trousers, and Draco responded by rocking against Harry's thigh. It was evident that Draco was as turned on as Harry, but he seemed also to have the same preference for taking this slowly. Not until Draco's movements ceased did Harry stop kissing him and move back a few inches.

Draco lay glassy-eyed, rumpled, but still fully clothed. Deliberately Harry reached for Draco's chest, undid one button, then the next, and all the way down. He could see the outline of Draco's cock in his tight trousers, and brushed his fingers over the fine wool, watching Draco's hips jolt in response.

Pushing aside the loosened folds of Draco's shirt, Harry stroked the sparse fair curls of his chest, stroking circles and spirals that inevitably centred on his nipples. Draco gasped as Harry pinched him, his mouth opening into a longing O.

"Do you like that?" murmured Harry, though he scarcely needed Draco's emphatic nod of assent. He continued toying with Draco's nipple with one hand while with the other he unbuttoned his shirt. Shrugging out of it, he guided Draco to touch him and hissed as Draco's fingers pinched. Draco twisted the tight nub, just a little.

"Oh fuck, yes," breathed Harry, and saw Draco give a smile that was so similar to his father's that for an instant Harry thought it was Lucius there.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to control.

"Harry."

"Yes?"

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Harry was a little surprised that Draco would put it so bluntly, but then, why shouldn't he? "If that's what you want... I can go either way, I don't mind," said Harry.

"I'd rather _you_ fucked _me_ , this time anyway." Draco's lips were parted, his breathing quick and shallow. "I'll do you next time if you want."

Harry nodded, his heart leaping at Draco's assumption that there would be a next time. "I don't have any lube with me, though, I'll have to use a spell."

"That's fine." Draco's hand dropped away from Harry's chest to start unfastening his trousers.

Once they were both naked, Harry fumbled for his wand and brought the tip to rest between Draco's arsecheeks. He didn't use the lubrication charm immediately, however, but rather a sanitising spell. Then he stroked the still-dry skin.

"Er, Harry...?" Draco craned his neck to look back over his shoulder. "I think you forgot something?"

"Not at all." Harry nudged Draco's thighs apart and knelt between them. He lowered his head and traced a line with his tongue, down along Draco's spine to the dimple at its base and on, slithering it in between Draco's arsecheeks.

"You're not... oh fuck, Harry, fuck!" Draco exclaimed as Harry's tongue found the tight pucker of his arsehole and nudged inside.

The sanitising spell had done its work. Harry tasted nothing but clean skin as he explored the soft texture of Draco's entrance. Above him Draco whimpered, pushing back against Harry's face, clearly very much enjoying what Harry was doing.

Even the most delightful activity cannot be sustained forever. Eventually Harry had to give his tongue some rest. By that point Draco's arsehole was quite relaxed -- Harry tested it with his finger -- and only a quick lubrication charm was needed before Harry was pressing his long-denied cock into Draco's warm and willing body.

Glancing down he saw that Draco had grasped his own cock, whether to fist himself or try to hold himself back, Harry wasn't sure. Perhaps both, as Draco saw fit. If he didn't come while Harry was inside him, Harry would take care of that later. In the meantime, he kept his own thrusts slow, savouring the sensation. It felt different from his experiences with Lucius, although he couldn't put his finger on just how. Not that it mattered; this was enough, too much even.

Harry's breath came in ragged gasps, his thrusts quickening involuntarily. The tide of desire rising through him could no longer be controlled. With a groan that seemed torn from his very guts he came, his spunk pulsing deep into Draco's body.

The cessation of his movements evidently told Draco what had happened. He stilled the motion of his arm. "Harry?"

"Yeah. Fuck. That was... wow." Harry swallowed. "My jaw's a little sore, but do you want me to suck you off?"

"Please; I'm pretty sure it won't take long, so your mouth should be okay." Draco scooted forward a little, letting Harry's cock ease out of him, and turned over. If being fucked had caused his erection ever to falter, it had regained its full size, standing hard and scarlet above his tight bollocks.

Harry touched his tongue to the slit and tasted the clear fluid that welled there before he began to suck in earnest. He was thankful for Lucius's instruction in this technique; without that teaching he could not have taken Draco in to the very root. Draco's hands clutched at Harry's shoulders, his nails digging into the flesh. As his words had suggested, it was only moments before his bitter cream spurted into Harry's throat. Harry backed off, swallowed, and crawled up Draco's body, laying down a line of kisses that led to his mouth. Draco kissed him back, fiercely now, with none of the tentativeness he had shown earlier.

"Merlin. Where'd you learn to do _that_?"

"Oh, just around, you know." Harry shrugged and smiled. He was certainly not going to tell Draco the whole truth about how, and from whom, he'd learned. At least... not yet.


	65. A Gentleman-like Manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry thinks he might be gay. Charlie knows he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For secretsolitaire who asked for Harry/Charlie. The title is borrowed from Jane Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_. Prompt 94, "embrace".

"You're kidding."

Harry stared at Charlie, astonished. The hand holding his drink relaxed so that the glass tilted, nearly spilling. Charlie reached out to steady it.

"No, not kidding in the slightest," he said lightly. "If you want me to prove it...?" Charlie left the question dangling.

Harry's brain was still spinning. Absently he raised his glass and finished it in three gulps. He had already been more than half-drunk, which was why he had confessed to Charlie that he thought he was gay, leaving Charlie to respond that he, Charlie, unquestionably _was_. The additional cider calmed him but sent the world out of focus, as if his glasses had disappeared. He felt for them to make sure that they were still perched securely on his nose.

"Um, what?" He looked owlishly at Charlie and found himself sliding from his stool.

"Careful there." Charlie hopped down from his own seat and caught Harry in a rough embrace, holding him upright. "Not right now, mind you; you're in no shape to know what you're doing."

"Am too," Harry protested, enjoying the feel of Charlie's strong arm around him, supporting him.

"No, you're not." Charlie was definite. "Come on, I'll take you home so you can sleep this off. You're going to have a thumping headache in the morning, I suspect. But you can think about what I said then. If you're still of the same mind when you're sober, that's another story."

Harry stuck out his lower lip, but Charlie ignored his sulky expression and steered Harry out of the pub. Again he took Harry in his arms, preparing to Apparate them back to the Burrow where they were both staying. Harry was to be Ron's best man in four days' time, and Charlie had come home for the wedding. They had both been happy to have an opportunity to escape the preparations tonight and go to the Three Broomsticks for a quiet evening.

Charlie landed them with a bump in the back garden. Harry took advantage of overbalancing to give Charlie a drunken kiss. Charlie only allowed it for a moment before breaking away and saying softly, "Now, none of that." He stroked Harry's hair away from his face. "I meant it when I said I want you to make this decision sober."

Harry sighed, though deep down he knew Charlie was right. He let Charlie lead him inside and deposit him by the door of Ron's room, which he was sharing.

"Goodnight, Charlie. Thanks," he mumbled sleepily.

Charlie cupped his cheek and gave him a swift kiss on the forehead. "Goodnight, Harry. I'll see you in the morning." He turned and disappeared down the stairs to his own room.


	66. Patience Rewarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Angelina had been fascinated by Harry since he had first arrived at Hogwarts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For ancarett who asked for Harry with Angelina or Katie. Prompt 89, "luck".

Angelina had been fascinated by Harry since he had first arrived at Hogwarts.

It wasn't because he was the Boy Who Lived. If anything that was off-putting, although she was pleased to observe he didn't care for his fame either. Nor was it a physical attraction. Even by the time Angelina left Hogwarts, Harry was no taller than she, and really quite ordinary-looking.

No, what drew her to him was his ability at Quidditch. He often seemed to have luck on his side, that was true, but she could also tell that most of his success was due to skill instead. She looked forward to working with him when she was named Gryffindor captain, and his suspension from playing by Professor Umbridge was frustrating in the extreme.

After that Angelina told herself not to hope for anything much. She didn't forget him, and during the year when Voldemort's supporters seized power, she often wondered how he was and hoped he would be all right.

It came as a pleasant shock, however, when she ran into him at Quality Quidditch Supplies the following year -- Angelina was buying a new pair of flying gloves, Harry checking out the latest broom models -- and after some spirited reminiscing about the matches they had played together, Harry asked her to have dinner with him.


	67. A Destined Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry can't explain why he is with Severus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For alisanne, who asked for Snarry. Prompt 43, "sacred".

Hermione has asked me more than once to explain, but all I can do is shrug. When he passed on his memories to me, I believed he was dying. I don't know why I returned after the fighting to find him.

Something bound us together, life to life: a kind of sacred trust. Our separate sacrifices, perhaps? I don't know. Anytime I've asked what he thinks, he just shakes his head. I think he's still surprised to be alive. I know I am, and more surprised to discover that the love of my life is someone I hated for years.


	68. Played for a Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius Malfoy has never in his life been a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, references to infidelity. Prompt 95, "message".

No one has ever been able to call Lucius Malfoy a fool. I have done foolish things, to be sure; but I defy anyone to say he has not, at some point in his life, acted foolishly. That is not the same thing.

When I saw Harry and my son sitting together, I knew quite well what their intentions were. Draco reminded me far too clearly of myself in the first grip of a new desire, and by then I knew Harry well enough to easily read the lust in his expression.

I pretended to be unaware, of course, and flirted gently with Harry just as I would have done had I not seen how things stood between the younger men. Nothing that I said would give away to Draco the sexual relationship I had been enjoying with Harry, but Harry himself could not mistake my meaning. I am, I am afraid, petty at times. If Harry was intending to seduce my son, I wanted to ensure that _I_ was on his mind as well.

Although I delayed my departure from their company as long as I was able, eventually I could put it off no longer, and left. Half of my thoughts remained with them, however, and I tormented myself the rest of that evening imagining what they might be doing together.

The irony of it would have made me smile, had it not been myself caught in the trap. Because of my gratitude toward Harry for saving Draco's life, I had been more than willing to teach him what he wanted to learn, and now he was putting my lessons to use with Draco. I presumed that this meant Harry would cease to meet me. We had, after all, explored many different sexual acts together already, and I was under no illusion that he was likely to feel the same affection for me that I had unintentionally and unexpectedly developed toward him.

I continued my other activities as usual, and if I was occasionally somewhat short with Narcissa, well, she had lived with my bouts of temper before. We had long since come to an agreement that we would not inquire into each other's affairs of whatever sort. She may have suspected that I had had a romantic entanglement go badly, but she gave no indication of it, just as I disregarded her own frequent absences.

Perhaps I _am_ a fool in some respects after all, because I could not stop thinking about Harry. Even with what I had been teaching him he retained a charming naïveté, tempered by just enough Slytherin-style cunning never to be dull. I occasionally wondered what might have happened had he been Sorted into Slytherin rather than Gryffindor. He could have been one of the most outstanding members of my old House; his ability to speak Parseltongue was a strong indicator of that. He had spoken it to me on more than one occasion, and I pleasured myself now recalling it. Something about the gutturals and hisses falling from those soft red lips excited me to a remarkable extent, and even the memory of it brought me swiftly to orgasm.

Harry had always been the one to make contact when he wished to have another lesson. I would not stoop to pleading with him to return, and I assumed I would hear nothing more from him. He had always made it plain that he saw me in no light other than that of teacher, given me no cause to think he had any motive other than instruction. I resigned myself to temporary solitude, until I should find another young wizard -- or witch, perhaps -- to break it.

Yet several weeks after I left Harry and Draco sitting together at the Leaky Cauldron, a message arrived by owl at breakfast with the rest of the post. I recognised Harry's childish handwriting, and took the envelope up to my study, where I would be undisturbed. When I was in that room the house-elves knew not to enter without being specifically summoned.

I broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Harry had written in quite the same manner he always had. He did not mention Draco at all, merely asked if I would be free in the next several days to meet and give him another lesson, the subject to be anything I wished that I felt he might enjoy learning.

Swiftly I wrote back, naming a date three days away, and suggesting a Muggle pub that we had used once before as a rendezvous. With my reply winging its way back to Harry, the tightness that I had not consciously recognised as constricting my heart eased.


	69. Pearl of Great Price

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something hard to endure can become valuable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry. This is in the _Better Than Revenge_ universe, but stands alone. Prompt 13, "sand".

When Draco left me to marry Asteria, it would be no exaggeration to say that my heart broke.

Not that it was a surprise. He had made it clear all along how important it was to his parents, and to him, that he pass along the Malfoy bloodline and name. We had argued over that time after time, until we were both exhausted, but I had never been able to shake his determination. The knowledge that he had not lied helped... a little bit.

I couldn't just forget about Draco and everything we had shared, though. He became like a pearl in my heart and mind. I'm not sure whether I learned about it at school when I still lived with the Dursleys, or if Hermione mentioned it some time, but apparently the reason that oysters make pearls is because a grain of sand has managed to slip under their shell. The sand irritates them, so they create layers of nacre, trying to smooth it down to where they can tolerate this intrusion that they are unable to get rid of. Draco was like that for me; once he had lodged himself in my heart, I couldn't get him out. All I could do was try to find ways that let me remember without too much pain.

He did come back, and that wasn't entirely a surprise either. I hadn't been sure whether his wife would agree to it, despite Draco's assurances. But she did, and he did, and at nearly the same time Ginny made her astonishing offer to have a baby for me if I wanted. In less than two years I went from being childless and single to having a husband and two children -- Horatio and Rosemary. To me that's almost more of a miracle than surviving my duels with Voldemort, but I suppose it's just another demonstration of the power of love.

Dumbledore always claimed that love was a greater force than magic, and perhaps he was right. In any case, it has been so for me. Off and on we have been together for the best part of twenty years now; for our tenth anniversary I gave Draco a platinum tiepin, set with pearls.


	70. Truth Is Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has a strange idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the Harry/Hermione/Ron series, maybe, but stands alone. Prompt 31, "book".

"Do you ever have the feeling that we're just characters in a book that someone else is writing?" Hermione asks Harry one night. "That someone else is deciding what we're like, how we act, who we fall in love with?"

"What a strange idea. What made you think of that?" Harry is too occupied watching Hermione's breasts as she takes off her bra to really pay close attention.

She shrugs, saying, "I don't know. Just that sometimes I feel like I can't predict what will happen next, as if it's all arbitrary."

"You're mental," says Ron, who has already snagged the spot in the middle of their big bed tonight. "I'm real, I am, and so is Harry." He smacks Harry's pyjama-clad arse lightly. "Couldn't do _that_ if I were just dreamed up in some author's imagination."

"I suppose not." Hermione slides into the bed on Ron's other side and kisses him, then leans across to kiss Harry. "No author would put the three of us together like this; and they do say that truth is stranger than fiction, after all."


	71. Scylla and Charybdis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wants them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, Draco/Harry. Prompt 65, "and".

I suppose, when it comes right down to it, that I'm greedy. I want to have Draco, _and_ I want to have Lucius.

Draco... It's hard to explain what he means to me. We were enemies for so long. Our mutual suspicion led to my obsession with him in our sixth year at Hogwarts, and eventually that obsession developed into fascination of a more positive kind. Maybe some of my feeling comes from Dumbledore's insistence that love will win out every time. There's also the fact that I happen to find him bloody attractive.

As for Lucius, I freely admit that I started the affair with him purely because I thought I could learn a lot about sex. He's older, obviously, but he and Draco strongly resemble each other, so that was a plus. I can't deny that the idea of having an old antagonist more or less at my command -- even when he tops, we both know that _he_ was the one who originally offered to do whatever I wanted, as recompense for saving his son -- is more than a little appealing.

I'd like, that is I think I'd like, to have things be serious between Draco and me. Like, let's-make-this-permanent serious. It's a bit early for that really, but maybe for once I'm thinking ahead. Lucius, on the other hand, I don't think I would want to marry, even if he didn't already have a wife. Not because of his age! If nothing else being with him has taught me how little that means. 

Nor is it even because he used to be a Death Eater. We've had a few conversations about that little issue, seeing as how we can't have sex all the time that we spend together, and I'm convinced that his change of heart is genuine. He's never going to go out of his way to be friends with non-purebloods, but he acknowledges that it's the ability to do magic that matters, not who one's parents were... and that's a big step. I'm not planning to hold my breath for Lucius to realise that even magical ability is not that important, given that probably ninety-eight percent of the wizarding world would agree with him on that one.

The question then becomes whether and how I can keep both Lucius _and_ Draco in my life. I'd be an idiot to think I could do it and keep the fact secret from them both. Sooner or later I would call one of them by the other's name accidentally... or worse. So I'll have to tell them.

How _do_ you tell your lover that you're also fucking his father? Or his son? Somehow I don't think this is covered in any etiquette guide. And they'll both have to go along with the idea, or it will be impossible. If one of them doesn't agree, then I'll have to choose. Choose between them, or give them both up.

Facing Voldemort almost seems easy compared with this. At least then I had help from Ron and Hermione and a whole lot of other people. For this one, I'm on my own.


	72. The Ravell'd Sleave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's having nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Hermione/Ron. The title is from Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ , Act II, scene ii, line 48. Prompt 25, "demons".

"Harry. Harry." Hermione shook Harry's shoulder. "Wake up!"

"What...?" Harry struggled out of sleep.

"Another nightmare," said Hermione gently. She smoothed sweat-dampened hair from Harry's forehead and looked helplessly across at Ron.

"Do you remember what you were dreaming, mate?" Ron took Harry's hand and squeezed it.

"No," Harry said.

Hermione shook her head. Harry never remembered his dreams, which made it hard to figure out what demons of the past troubled him. Whatever they were, they made him tremble and cry out, sometimes thrash so that he kicked one of the other two by accident. Not that they blamed him, but it wasn't exactly restful to sleep in the same bed as Harry these days. Making him sleep elsewhere didn't seem like a good solution, however.

Sighing, Hermione kissed Harry and lay down again.

Ron resettled the covers over them all.

Harry lay wakeful the rest of the night.


	73. At Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlie helps Harry be most himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie/Harry, adult. For angela_snape because she likes this pairing. Prompt 76, "night".

Night is the time when Harry can most be himself. During the day he carries out the duties of an Auror with competence, even flair. He knows that he is being groomed to be the next Head of the Aurors, and he accepts the prospect of increased responsibility with equanimity; there is no one else in the department likely to do a better job than he would, as he acknowledges with no false pride.

Nevertheless it is a relief to let that burden roll off his shoulders. He has Charlie to thank for that, Charlie who taught him what was possible, Charlie whose love and discipline enfold him securely each night when he comes home. Harry obeys Charlie's every command, striving always for perfection, secure in the knowledge that Charlie will discipline him for any faults, because he loves Harry and wants him to be the best he can be.

At Charlie's request, Harry has been wearing a plug in his arse all day today. Now naked, he stands at attention as Charlie inspects him, nodding satisfaction, nudging Harry's feet further apart so that when he removes the plug he can immediately replace it with his own thick cock, one hand pinching Harry's nipple, the other toying with his prick. No discipline is needed tonight; this is Harry's reward for a week of faultless service. Charlie's scraping fingernails only serve to heighten sensation so that Harry is ready to spill out his orgasm at Charlie's whispered command, his arse flexing, tightening, milking Charlie's cock to climax.

Charlie kisses Harry's neck, biting hard, sucking. There will be a bruise there tomorrow, a reminder that at night Harry will be able to relax and lay aside the stresses and responsibilities of the day.


	74. No Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione feels herself a failure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the H/Hr/R series. Prompt 51, "fact".

As soon as Hermione walked in the door tonight I knew, and so did Ron, that her news would not be good.

The three of us sat on the sofa together, Hermione in the middle. I held her right hand, Ron her left, and we put our other arms around her shoulders so that we could hold each other's hands too.

"There is no hope," she said, her voice wobbling. "I mean, there's a _chance_ , technically, and since you both tested perfectly fine and the only thing they can find wrong with me is slightly low hormone levels, but not low enough that they should be a problem, it's not impossible. After three years of nothing, though, the chance is pretty small... and I'm not getting any younger. Those are simply the facts and we -- have to -- accept them."

She started to cry. I looked over at Ron, and his face showed the same helpless misery that I felt. So many Muggle and magical tests done, everything we had tried, and still nothing to show for it.

All of us wanted a child, me perhaps more than either of the others, but just then I could only think of Hermione's pain.

"I feel like such a failure," she choked out between sobs.

"You're not," Ron and I both assured her, almost simultaneously.

 _Hermione_ , a failure? I had to repress a laugh that would have been beyond inappropriate at that moment. Hermione had always been the best at nearly everything... except flying. Certainly at anything she cared about. Perhaps that was why she was taking it so hard; up to this point in her life she had always succeeded at anything she tried to do.

I wished again that she had let me or Ron go with her to more of these appointments, particularly today, but she had wanted to go alone. I think she felt that if either of us was there she would lose her self-control in the office and feel doubly humiliated. So we had respected her wishes.

All I could do now was to hold her close, hold Ron tight too, as we shared our grief together.


	75. End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron didn't come back on Hermione's account.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Ron, Hermione/Ron. Part of the H/Hr/R series. Prompt 74, "world".

I pretended that it was because of Hermione that I came back, but that wasn't the truth.

Oh, I love Hermione, don't get me wrong, but it was _Harry's_ need that drew me, that left me gasping awake at night with a conviction that things were going horribly wrong and it was my fault for not being there. Yes, we had quarrelled -- badly -- but Harry had been my best mate for years, long before we became lovers, and that wasn't something I was willing to give up, not once my temper had cooled.

I'll admit that being away from that Horcrux helped too.

So I made the decision to go back; the trouble was how to find them, moving around as I knew they must be, and protected by all of Hermione's best concealment spells.

The Deluminator was a stroke of luck. Harry has told me, since, about Dumbledore's theory that love is ultimately what saves us all, but I didn't know that then, only decided that following the impulse, the tug, that I felt when I used it was no worse a way of guessing where the other two might be than any other.

I didn't really believe it would work, though, so the sight of Harry going down through the ice into that black pond astounded me so much that it was several moments before I reacted. I didn't stop to consider; I just threw myself after him as soon as I realised what was happening. There was nothing in the world more important at that moment than saving Harry. I wasn't thinking of You-Know-Who or the Horcruxes or Harry's value as a symbol of resistance, or _anything_ really. I just knew that if Harry died, even if Hermione still lived, my world would come to an end.


	76. Assertions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry nerves himself up to tell Lucius what's been going on with Draco, and what he really wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, adult, D/s, nipple clamps, cock ring, oral sex, watersports, infidelity. Prompt 61, "months". This is part of the Harry/Lucius, Draco/Harry series, although as usual I have tried to make it stand alone.

Harry had discovered that he quite liked being submissive to Lucius's dominant in the bedroom. He didn't much care for pain. They had experimented with that and it wasn't for him, except in the mildest way. Nipple clamps might be all right on occasion, but not flogging. Bondage, however, or role-play as master and servant and the like, those gave Harry great pleasure, when Lucius was in charge.

He thought he might enjoy being dominant to Draco's submissive, though, so tonight he was practicing that role with Lucius. It felt a little awkward. He kept wanting to wait for Lucius to tell _him_ what to do rather than the other way around, but by imagining that it was Draco instead of Draco's father, he was managing.

It helped that Lucius seemed comfortable in the role. Harry wondered a little in the back of his head with whom Lucius had played such games before. Not that it mattered, of course. Whoever it had been, that was in the past, and it wasn't as if the two of them were exclusive now. Lucius was still married to Narcissa, although Harry had never inquired into the state of their relationship. Harry himself was becoming increasingly involved with Draco. Now that was a complication. Soon he was going to have to tell each of them about the other, and hope that they would understand and accept that Harry didn't want to give either of them up.

In the meantime Harry continued to learn from Lucius. Just now the older man knelt in front of Harry, beautifully posed, his long fair hair spilling over his shoulders, not quite concealing the small silver dragons whose teeth were clamped on his nipples. The base of his cock was encircled by the serpentine form of another silver dragon, its tail twined around Lucius's bollocks, drawing them tight. Lucius held perfectly still, waiting for Harry's command.

"Suck me."

Lucius's mouth closed around him, warm wet suction, Lucius's tongue flickering, teasing. Harry steadied himself against the wall, looking down at Lucius's bobbing head. It still astonished to him from time to time that he was having this affair. _Both_ these affairs. He spread his legs a little wider and murmured the words of the lubrication charm.

"Use your fingers."

The first moment of penetration was always a shock, however much he wanted it. Lucius was familiar with Harry's responses by now. He paused until Harry had relaxed. Then he began to rotate his finger, stroking the tight ring of muscle, coaxing it to open, to let him in deeper. Some time, Harry thought, he might be willing to try having Lucius's entire hand inside him, but not today. Today he had something else in mind that he thought Lucius would enjoy, having mentioned it several times.

It was sheer bliss to have Lucius's skilled tongue working him over, Lucius's fingers teasing his arsehole. Harry played with the idea of having Lucius fuck him, or conversely of fucking Lucius's own delicious arse, but he decided to remain as he was.

By now Lucius had relaxed his throat so that he was taking in the whole length of Harry's prick. Harry hadn't yet mastered that technique. He was practicing occasionally on his own with courgettes and hoped to have perfected the skill soon. He was close, so fucking close, and then Lucius's teeth scraped his cockhead gently and it was as if he had exploded, his arsehole clamping around Lucius's fingers, his cock spurting into Lucius's throat.

Lucius stayed there, swallowing, lapping Harry clean, until Harry was limp and relaxed. Then Lucius knelt back on his ankles, waiting for Harry's next command.

"Take that off."

Harry indicated the dragon cock ring, within which Lucius's prick stood rampant. Lucius murmured the words of release and the dragon uncoiled, curling up instead in Lucius's palm. Harry bent and flicked a nipple clamp. "There's something you talked about doing," he murmured near Lucius's ear. "Do you know what?"

Lucius shook his head. He had told Harry about many things, after all.

"Look at me."

Harry watched Lucius's eyes dilate as he continued. "I'm going to piss on you, and you're going to make yourself come while I do it." His lips parted for an instant, but Lucius said not one word.

"You've told me how it feels to have someone's hot piss soaking you, trickling down your skin, and how it feels to be the one doing the pissing, the gush of relief, but it's the intimacy of it, the trust, that appeals to _me_ most. Over all these months we've become attuned to each other physically, learned to trust each other, don't you think? You may answer."

Lucius's face was stiff, unreacting, but he replied, "Yes."

"Then touch yourself."

Harry took his cock in his hand, aimed it, let the first drops trickle out. He had planned to do this, made sure his bladder was full, but he wanted to make it last as long as he could.

Already Lucius's eyes were half-closed, his fist closed over his cock, pumping. The pungent smell hit Harry's nose. He let himself go a little more, so that a thin trickle sprayed Lucius's groin. It felt good, this slow release, almost like drawing out a mild orgasm, but better yet was watching Lucius take pleasure in what Harry was doing. Once upon a time he might have fantasised about pissing on Lucius to humiliate him, belittle him in a most direct way, but no longer; now his only purpose was to find new ways to enjoy their bodies, to explore the limits of ecstasy.

On impulse Harry directed the flow for a moment at Lucius's chest. The dragon clamps reacted, biting down on Lucius's nipples, and by the time that the golden stream had returned to Lucius's cock, it was already throbbing, pulsing out jets of spunk to be washed away with the last of Harry's piss. Lucius sighed, slumping for a moment before quickly re-assuming his erect posture.

"Enough," said Harry softly. "Clean us up, and your service is over for today."

A flick of Lucius's wand and a couple of murmured words left them both, and the rug, clean and dry.

"Why did you decide to do that today? I _have_ suggested it in the past, but you never seemed very interested," Lucius commented.

Harry worried his lower lip with his teeth. When he spoke, he did not answer directly. "I need to talk to you about something," he said at last.

Lucius said, "This sounds serious. I think a drink might be in order. You?" He slipped on his black silk dressing gown, tying the sash, and poured two glasses of whiskey, handing one to Harry before sitting down. "Now, what is it?"

Before he answered, Harry took a gulp for courage. It was a mistake; he choked and coughed, his eyes streaming. Lucius thumped him on the back.

"Let's sit down," said Harry when he could speak again. He pulled on his jeans and shirt, not bothering with anything more, and sat, running his finger around the rim of the glass.

"What is it?" Lucius asked again after a few moments of silence. "Did you want to end our... association?"

"No!" Harry replied instantly, and saw Lucius relax. "No, but..." He swallowed. "I've been seeing Draco. Your son."

"Yes, I know," said Lucius dryly, "both those things."

"I..." Harry faltered. "Oh. That's right, you were there the first time he and I had drinks, at the Leaky Cauldron."

Lucius nodded.

Harry's face was hot. "I care for Draco. A lot. I think maybe he feels the same, but we haven't really talked about it, not yet. The thing is that realising how much _he_ means to me made me recognise that _you_ mean a great deal to me too."

"I see." The words came slowly.

"I'm not sure what to do now." The misery clenching Harry's heart lessened a fraction, seeing that Lucius seemed more or less calm about this revelation, which apparently was not so much of a surprise as Harry had expected. "I don't think things can go on the way they have, but I don't want to give you up. Either of you."

Lucius gave a lazy, almost feline stretch, but his gaze was sharp as he said, "You needn't, as far as I am concerned."

"You don't mind?"

"Oh, Harry. What good would that do? I would prefer to have you to myself, I won't lie, but if the alternatives are to share you or to lose you altogether, then naturally I will chose the former. In a way I'm flattered to know that you don't want to throw me over in favour of Draco."

"I don't." Harry swallowed, his eyes prickling. "I still have to tell _him_. I hope he takes it as well as you have, but I doubt he will."

"You never know." Lucius's teeth gleamed in a shrewd smile. "If _you_ can't persuade my son, you might consider having him talk with _me_."


	77. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An accident is nothing to be ashamed of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Severus. For alisanne. Prompt 90, "perfume".

Harry sniffed at the air as Severus entered their living room. "Are you wearing _perfume_?"

"No." Severus sounded offended, but there was also a hint of defensiveness in his voice. "Why do you ask?"

"I just thought I smelled something, that's all."

Harry returned to leafing through _Which Broomstick_. He was considering the new Thunderbolt 3000, which was supposed to be so fast it was like having lightning between your legs. As Seeker for the Wigtown Wanderers, he felt it was time to replace his now-ancient Firebolt, and he had managed to get the team's owner to agree to pay half of the cost if he wanted to go for the best broom currently available, rather than stick with the Nimbus 2500 model used by the rest of the Wanderers.

His perusal of the specifications of the Thunderbolt was unexpectedly interrupted.

"What _did_ you smell?"

"What?" Harry looked up, surprised. "Er. I'm not sure exactly; something like warm grass, a little spicier than that though. And leather. Why?"

"No reason." Again, Severus seemed somewhat embarrassed, if the flush on his cheeks was anything to judge by. "I was just curious."

Now it was Harry who was curious about what Severus was doing that had produced the pleasant aroma, and why he didn't want to explain it. He put the magazine aside and stood up, wrapping his arms around Severus. The smell was stronger now, definitely coming from the other man, and Harry's mouth watered. Other parts of him reacted, too.

"Did you brew Amortentia today?"

Severus turned even redder. "Yes. There was a small… accident. The cauldron overturned."

"And splashed your robes," Harry guessed, nuzzling Severus's neck, inhaling deeply. "It could happen to anyone; don't be embarrassed about it."

"I suppose." Severus let out a sigh and held Harry close.


	78. Petunia Resents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia loved her sister once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For accioslash who asked for Petunia and Harry. Prompt 70, "breaking".

Petunia was nearly four when her sister was born, and from the moment Lily came home from the hospital and gazed at Petunia with her big green eyes, Petunia loved her. Lily adored Petunia right back.

Lily tried so hard to keep up with her beloved older sister that she outshone Petunia at every stage, but that didn't matter until she started to show that she could do magic. _Real_ magic, not like performing card tricks and making scarves disappear. As hard as Petunia tried, she couldn't do any, and when Lily received the letter from Hogwarts, Petunia felt as though something were breaking inside her.

As much as she could, Petunia ignored Lily from then on. She told herself that Lily was a freak, conceited about her ability, deserving no attention. When Petunia met Vernon Dursley, she knew that here was her chance. It wasn't until the wedding—their mum insisted that Lily should be Petunia's bridesmaid—that Vernon even knew Petunia _had_ a sister.

The baby on the doorstep couldn't be anyone but Lily's son. Petunia had known of Harry's birth, had even sent a note of congratulations to keep up appearances, but she had never seen him. Nevertheless she was certain this was her nephew as soon as he opened his eyes, the same clear green as his mother's.

For an instant all the affection that Petunia had once felt for Lily rushed back. She stooped and lifted Harry, and the fold of blanket that had covered his forehead fell away, revealing an odd cut, shaped like a lightning bolt. Petunia frowned. She heard a rustle of paper, and pulled a letter from the blanket. Reading it, the brief sympathy she had for the now-orphaned boy vanished. If this child had so much magic that he had survived a powerful wizard's curse that had killed his mother, he would be even worse than Lily.

Petunia would keep Harry, but she would never let herself love him, not when he was a living reminder of the most painful part of her own past.


	79. Full Disclosure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finally nerves himself up to tell Draco about the other man in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry, adult. Part of the Draco/Harry, Harry/Lucius series, but (I hope) stands alone. For felaine. Prompt 49, "can't".

I pace around my living room, muttering. When Hedwig was alive she would have been the object of my conversation, but she is long gone and I have never quite brought myself to replace her.

Not that Hedwig would have had good advice on this particular problem. I am trying to figure out how to explain to Draco that even as we began our relationship, I was already involved with his father... and that I've reached a point where I can neither keep what's going on secret, nor give up either one of them.

Lucius already knows. I told him last weekend, but I think he had guessed even before then. He's not exactly thrilled with the situation but he says he'd rather have something than nothing.

Neither of us thinks that Draco will take this little revelation as well as Lucius has.

The thing is that I never _intended_ to end up in such a tangle. It's Draco I've been interested in for ages, but when Lucius offered to do anything I asked as thanks for saving Draco from the Fiendfyre, I couldn't resist having him teach me about sex. I guessed, and I was right, that he had had plenty of experience with other men, and with activities rather beyond the usual. I didn't expect that eventually he would come to mean more to me than a kinky tutor, but that is what happened.

In the meantime I had finally managed to hook up with Draco; our initial encounter led quickly to getting physical, but we hit it off in every other way as well. We complement each other. I'm impulsive, he's more calculating; I'm an orphan, he's had more of family bonding that he would like; I'm a hero, he's... well, not a villain, but maybe close, at least in most people's eyes. Anyhow. The point is that we get on surprisingly well, to where I think we're both seriously considering spending the rest of our lives together... except for this one little snag.

"Maybe not so little," I say aloud, just as a thud in the fireplace signals Draco's arrival.

"That's _definitely_ not so little," he says, coming toward me. "Is that a broomstick in your trousers, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Flatterer," I murmur against his lips. "You're bigger than I am."

"Only longer," he corrects me.

We measured, one night, when we'd had sex about four times and were happily exhausted and drinking firewhiskey. Draco's right, he's longer, but I'm bigger around. He says he prefers that; he likes to suck me off but has a tendency to gag when he takes me too deep into his mouth.

Already his hand is on me, and yeah, I'm hard for him. I've been thinking about him and Lucius and sex, how could I not be hard? He's flattered, though, I can tell by the way his eyes shine as he pulls a little back and sinks gracefully to his knees, reaching to unfasten my trousers, setting my cock free.

"Draco," I say.

"Mm-hm?"

His lips are already parting, sliding around the tip, his tongue flickering out to taste me.

I can't say it now. I haven't even figured out _how_ to explain the situation yet. So I let it go, let myself yield to the pleasure Draco is offering.

"Nothing. Just that... I love you," I say.

It's not the first time I've told him this, but it's still new between us, this acknowledgment that what we feel is more than pure physical attraction, and I can see his cheeks flush. He keeps his hair trimmed short, unlike his father. I like that. It suits him... and it has helped me, more than once, not to call out the wrong name.

His mouth is busy, but he caresses my thigh in response.

All too soon, it seems, he stops. I can't really object, since he only does so in order that we can both strip down and move into the bedroom. I stroke his chest, his belly, his cock, as he quivers under my touch.

" _Accio_ lube," I say, and slick Draco generously with the slippery gel before positioning myself on the bed on my side, my top leg forward.

He takes a fingerful and probes me, pressing the lube inside. We both prefer it when I am still quite tight, so it is only a few seconds before his cock nudges my hole, and I groan as he enters.

"Ohgod -- Draco --"

"Sh, I have you," he whispers. His cheek rasps against my shoulder blade, and his hand toys with my bollocks. The pressure of his cock, the feeling of fullness, usually makes my own cock soften at this point, but today I remain relatively hard. Realizing this, Draco shifts to give long strokes timed with his own thrusts, so that his hand reaches the base of my cock just as his own cock fills me completely.

I hear myself whimper; that's really the only word that fits the sound. It's all too much, too good, too _loving_ when I am almost sure that what I'm going to have to talk to Draco about tonight will only bring him pain.

But I love him too much to lie to him any more, even by omission, and so I bite down on my own fist and rock back against him, gasping, groaning. He cries out my name when he comes, and together we bring me off too.

Draco spoons himself around me, his breath slowing, warm on my skin. "Good?"

"You know it was," I reply, and kiss his palm.

We stay there a little while, but my stomach starts rumbling. We were supposed to be going out for dinner, after all. Luckily we hadn't made reservations since we would have been late if so.

"Maybe we should just get a takeaway?" Draco suggests. "It would be quicker."

There's a fairly good curry place in the next street but one. Muggle, of course, but Draco has adapted to the fact that I regularly go to Muggle shops and restaurants, even resigned himself to joining me. I wouldn't say he's totally comfortable with treating non-wizards as equals yet, but he's not nearly as bad as he used to be. He even voluntarily wrote a letter of apology to Hermione after he and I had been seeing each other for a couple of months.

We get samosas, chicken tikka masala, and dal, as well as rice and naan and various chutneys and raitas -- more than enough for the two of us, but I'll eat the leftovers for lunch for a day or two.

Draco licks orange-colored chicken sauce from his fork and sighs happily. I grin at how much he likes it all, but my smile fades as I remember what I still have to do.

There's no point in putting it off any longer; we've eaten and cleared away the table and are sitting on the sofa in my living room, sipping the last of our lagers. Draco's kicked off his shoes and his narrow bony feet are propped on my lap.

"Draco." I stroke his ankle. "I need to talk to you about something."

"So talk." He squirms down into the cushions a little further.

I take a deep breath. "Before I started seeing you, I was... kind of involved with someone else. Strictly a physical thing."

He shrugs. "I knew you weren't a virgin, if that's what you're trying to say. Neither was I."

"No. I mean, I didn't stop getting together with him once you and I got involved."

Now Draco cocks his head and eyes me. " _Him_ , huh? I guess at least it's not Ginny. So you're saying that you're _still_ seeing this bloke?" His voice is flat.

"Well, yeah. I am." I swallow hard. "And, the thing is, it was meant only to be physical, like I said, but what I realized is that he means something to me. I love you. I mean that, very much. But... I have feelings towards him too."

"You love him," says Draco, still quietly, but there's a strange hollowness to his tone.

"I don't know. Maybe. Not in exactly the same way. Oh, hell." I pull off my glasses and rub my hand across my eyes, frustrated. "Parents can have more than one kid and love them all, right? Why can't I, can't anyone, love more than one person romantically?"

I still haven't told Draco _who_ the other man is. One step at a time.

Somehow, surprisingly, my rhetorical question engages Draco's interest. "I don't know." He has pulled his feet away and curled up against the far arm of the sofa, but he hasn't moved any further off than that. "It doesn't really make sense, on a certain level. Although it's a lot easier to figure out what is going on if people are only supposed to be involved with one other person at a time."

"That's true," I have to admit. "You can sort of check both people off mentally as taken, and not have to worry about them. Whereas if they might also each be seeing _more_ people... yeah, confusing."

"Just a little." Draco brushes his fringe back and peers at me. "You thought I'd be furious over this, didn't you?"

"Yes." I wonder if maybe Draco, too, has someone else. It would be only fair... but it doesn't seem likely. He's never given the slightest hint of such a thing. Then again, neither have I.

"Well, I am; but I'm a Slytherin. I can save up and hit you with it later, when you're not expecting it."

"If you tell me that's what you're doing, doesn't that kind of ruin the surprise?" I ask.

"Harry..." He shook his head at me. "No. Believe me, no."

"Okay," I say doubtfully, because I'm sure I am going to worry about this until he _does_ take his anger out on me.

"So putting the fact that you've been cheating on me aside for the moment..."

I want to protest that description -- it's not as though we ever promised exclusivity -- but I'm not exactly in a position to do so.

"...is this other man someone I know? Just so I have an idea of who the competition is, you understand." Draco takes a long drink, finishing his glass, but his eyes remain fixed on me the whole time, and I know he won't accept an evasion.

This is even harder than telling him there was someone else to begin with.

"It's someone you know," I say.

"Please tell me it's not that Weasley brother. I don't think I could cope with that," says Draco.

"Not Charlie." I shake my head. "Not a Gryffindor at all."

"Really?" Draco's eyebrows go up. "Dare I hope you had the good taste to choose a Slytherin?"

Since I know that Lucius, like Draco, had been in that House, I can only nod.

"You _did_? All right, now I have to know who. Blaise? No one else in our year flies on the wrong side of the broomstick." Draco squints at me. "Miles? He's only a couple of years ahead of us, not that much older."

"It's someone a lot older," I say, almost under my breath. Before Draco can ask me to repeat myself, I say, more loudly, "Lucius. Your father."

"My what? Sorry, I can't have heard you right."

"You did," I sigh. "It just... happened."

"I can't believe this."

I have never seen Draco so upset, not even when he was so frustrated in the Room of Requirement that he was practically crying. I guess his relative calm at knowing I've been sleeping with someone else was more of a pretense than he was letting on, because it's as if a switch has flipped inside him. He's not red, but pale and shaking, curled in on himself with his arms around his knees.

"I can't... I have to leave."

Before I can stop him, he's over at the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo powder.

He's gone.


	80. Summer Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes a visit to Charlie in Romania.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schmoopy Charlie/Harry. For angela_snape. Prompt 7, "tranquil".

"This is the life."

Harry sighed happily, looking up at the blue sky, broken only by the occasional puffy white cloud. The smell of sun-warmed grass and wildflowers -- most of which he did not recognize -- filled the air. He was sprawled on a blanket in a tiny meadow nestled among rocky slopes at the dragon reservation.

"You're lucky to get to work here," he said to Charlie with a yawn. They'd been up late last night, and just eaten an enormous breakfast. "It's gorgeous."

Charlie chuckled. "Yeah, in summer. You should see it in winter though -- still beautiful but covered in snow and ice. And then there's autumn and spring, breeding and hatching seasons. At those times we're lucky to have a second to look at anything but the dragons; if you're not alert all the time, you can end up very, very dead."

Harry took Charlie's hand, noticing the many scars and burns that marred his skin. "I know. People say I was brave, doing what I did against Voldemort, but I think you dragon handlers are far braver; I _had_ to fight him, for my own life. You choose to do this work despite the danger."

"Yes, well." Charlie wriggled his shoulders deeper into the green-golden grasses, looking embarrassed. "I do it because I love working with the dragons. There's nothing else like it. But still, I'm glad to have some down time now and then."

"Like now?" Harry gave Charlie a grin. Green eyes met blue, and a spark kindled between them.

"Like now," Charlie agreed, rolling over and pulling Harry to him.


	81. Business Proposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George can't quite manage Weasley's Wizard Wheezes on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> George/Harry preslash. For secretsolitaire. Prompt 75, "decision".

Running Weasley's Wizard Wheezes just wasn't the same without Fred. George didn't want to give up the dream that he had shared with his twin for so long, though, so he doggedly kept at it, developing some of the ideas that he and Fred had talked about and even coming up with a few new ones.

That part was all right, if less enjoyable than collaborating. Finding wizards to _make_ the products was trickier, but he couldn't possibly keep up all on his own. Running the shop was the least fun of all. George liked talking with customers, helping them to pick out the best gags and joke products for their needs, but if he did that, he had no time for anything else. He had no choice but to hire a couple of witches, although he tried to spend an hour or so a day in the shop himself.

After nearly a year of juggling the many different responsibilities, George came to a decision. He sent an owl to Harry.

The next day, Harry was in George's workshop, looking a bit older and wearier than George remembered, but he supposed that being a celebrity wasn't all Chocoballs and Fizzing Whizbees. His dark hair was still as messy as ever, and his green eyes were alight.

"You wanted to talk?"

George nodded, and explained his business proposition. In a way Harry had been a silent partner in the shop from the beginning, since he'd given Fred and George the Galleons they needed to start it up. Now George hoped that Harry might consider coming in actively, helping George out with invention and initial manufacture, spending a few hours with the customers, and generally doing anything and everything that was becoming too much for George to handle.

"Charms weren't my strongest skill at school," Harry pointed out. "I'm nothing like as good as you are on those."

"Doesn't matter," said George firmly. "You'll get better over time, and anyhow, just having someone to bounce ideas off of would help. You always appreciated the kinds of things that Fred and I made, and you work hard when it's something you want to do. Honestly, there's no one else I would rather have helping me out."

Harry pushed his glasses up and looked thoughtful. "Not any of your family? Ron would probably leap at the chance, for instance."

"He might, but he's still enthralled with the idea of becoming an Auror; I don't want to mess that up for him. You already decided it wasn't for you after all. Now, if you don't want to come work with me, I understand. Maybe this isn't your mug of pumpkin juice either." Under the table George crossed his fingers.

"No, I'd love to. I just don't understand why you want me over anyone else," said Harry. "Some people, I would know they wanted my name for advertising or whatever, but that's not the way you think. So why?"

"Ask me that again a year from now, all right?" By then, George hoped, he would have managed to make Harry his partner in more than business.


	82. Luna's Triumph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One thing Harry loves about Luna is her creative unpredictability.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Luna. For ragdoll. Prompt 21, "whimsy".

Harry loved Luna's whimsy.

She woke Harry up one morning with a plateful of pancakes made with puffapods; when he took a bite, each seed burst into a flower in his mouth. Delicious, surprisingly, but disconcerting.

Another time Luna decided that their kitten (sired by Crookshanks) suffered from scrofungulus, and made charmed amulets out of hellebore and sneezewort for all three of them to wear. Harry sneezed at random moments for weeks afterward, but he had to admit that he stayed healthy.

Her greatest triumph, though, was the way that she decorated every room. Harry had told her how much he liked the portraits she had painted of him and their other friends on her ceiling at her father's house, and she responded by first re-creating those images, and then memorializing all (as near as Harry could tell) of their friends and allies who had resisted Voldemort.

The Weasley twins' faces grinned at Harry whenever he used the toilet; each original member of the Order of the Phoenix (Luna borrowed the photograph) lined the hallway to the library _cum_ study _cum_ guest room; and Cedric Diggory flew a painted broomstick up the staircase.

None of them would ever be forgotten.


	83. Married at Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Usually it's the bride who has the privilege of late arrival, but Hermione's not that kind of person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For aome who wanted Harry with anyone of his generation, and especially wanted him late at a wedding. This fits into the ongoing Harry/Hermione/Ron series, but stands alone perfectly well. Prompt 92, "late".

"Where _are_ they?" Hermione hissed out of the corner of her mouth, trying not to disturb the careful job of makeup, hairdressing, and general transformation that had been done to her by Ginny, Luna, and Mrs Granger. She looked entirely unlike her usual self, and wasn't sure she liked it, but, well, this was once in a lifetime and it meant rather a lot to her mother.

"I'm sure they'll be here," said Luna serenely.

* * *

"We're late!" Harry pawed with frantic urgency through the piles of miscellaneous clothing that were strewn over dresser, chair, and bed, looking for the cufflinks that had once belonged to Sirius and Kreacher had unearthed for the occasion.

"They can't start without us," said Ron, who was wrestling with his tie. "Calm down."

"He's right." Neville was already dressed in formal robes of deep purple, a white rose that matched the pair waiting for Ron and Harry pinned to his chest. "You survived everything that V-Voldemort threw at you, time after time. You can handle this."

Harry took a deep breath and let it out. "I know. I just want everything to be perfect, for Hermione's sake."

"She'll forgive you. What is it you're looking for?" Ron asked. His tie was tied, if slightly askew, and he'd been generous with the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion that Hermione had insisted they both use.

"Cufflinks!"

"Here they are." Ron plucked them from the top of the wardrobe. "Wonder how they got up there?"

"Doesn't matter. Right." Harry fumbled to fasten them. "Ready?"

"Just these," said Neville, pinning on their roses. "I have the ring."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall looked positively beatific as the three of them stood before her, with Neville behind Harry and Ron, and Ginny and Luna backing up Hermione. Harry was glad that they had asked the Hogwarts Headmistress to perform the ceremony, as well as to have it on the school grounds.

The words were somewhat different from what he had known growing up at the Dursleys', and Harry found the simultaneous spell-casting of a Happiness Charm by the entire assembly a bit overwhelming, but the three of them were married at last.


	84. Valedictory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three of them have tea together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For westernredcedar who wanted Harry/Ron; this ended up Harry/Ron/Hermione, and angsty. Prompt 15, "brown".

Ron's hand rests on top of the blanket. His freckles are hard to distinguish from brown age spots, these days, thinks Harry, as he reaches to entwine his fingers with Ron's.

They both know that time is short. How short -- that is the unanswerable question. It could be moments, could be months. In private conversations with Harry, Hermione has expressed the hope that it will be shorter rather than longer, for Ron's sake.

"Where's Hermione?" Ron's voice cracks, wavers, and Harry wonders if Ron has somehow caught his thoughts, even without Legilimency.

"Making tea," he says, almost equally huskily. "Want me to get her?"

Ron moves his head from side to side. His hand clasps Harry's more tightly, though it is nothing like the grip he once had. "'S all right. She'll be here soon."

The two of them wait. It isn't long, really, before Hermione returns, the loaded tea tray floating before her to settle gently on the stand beside Ron's bed. She pours: milk and one sugar for Ron, four sugars for Harry, none for herself. Harry chooses a biscuit.

"Thanks." Ron raises himself with an effort to sit upright against his pillows. He keeps hold of Harry with one hand, taking the cup with the other.

Hermione pats his knee. "You're welcome."

It is a quiet time, simply being together, remembering. When Ron's eyes slide shut, Harry rescues his teacup from falling.


	85. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy is delayed on his way to meet Harry for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Percy schmoop. For secretsolitaire. Prompt 46, "full".

"Minister, do you have a minute?"

He didn't, really, but he hadn't risen to this position by ignoring the reasonable requests of the wizards and witches whose work made the Ministry of Magic function. He pulled his expression into the semblance of patient calm and listened.

It seemed that the world-wide conference between the highest levels of wizarding authority might fall through... all because someone hadn't bothered to check the translations, and now the delegations from no fewer than forty-one countries were indignant over a supposed slight.

Percy sighed inwardly. "Send an urgent owl to Hermione Granger in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," he instructed. "Ask her -- at my personal request -- if she would please look for precedents in how to handle this sort of situation, and if she has any good Muggle contacts to fix the translations."

"Yes, Minister, of course." The Head of International Magical Cooperation bowed thankfully and left Percy's office.

Percy checked the time and swore under his breath. He was late... and he had had special plans for tonight, too. It was the fifth anniversary of his and Harry's first date. He felt in his pocket to make sure he had the little box he had so carefully wrapped the night before.

When he arrived at the restaurant, Harry was already at the table.

"I hoped you hadn't forgotten." Harry smiled, but Percy knew it was only a semi-joke.

"Sorry." Percy made a face. "This upcoming conference I'm trying to get arranged; there was an unfortunate error in the invitation that offended quite a few recipients, totally unintentionally."

Harry nodded. He understood pressure, and the difficulties of being in the public eye; that was one reason why they got on so well as a couple. It didn't mean either of them always liked it, though.

"I ordered a bottle of that Chianti you like so well. Here." He poured Percy a glass, and as Percy was raising it to his lips, placed something on the table.

"Percy... it's been five fantastic years with you. I wondered... if you'd like to make it for always." Harry opened the box to show a ring.

"You..." Percy's jaw dropped, then he began to chuckle, and pulled the box he'd brought from his pocket and handed it to Harry, who tore off the paper and laughed just as hard at what was inside.

"I guess great minds really do think alike, and I guess that answers my question."

"Mine, too," said Percy, his heart full as he leaned across the table to kiss Harry.


	86. Decisions, Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is stumped for a gift for Draco's birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco/Harry, some innuendo. Because today (June 5) _is_ Draco's birthday. Prompt 6, "day".

Today is a day like any other... except that it isn't. It's Draco's birthday today, and I haven't been able to think of _anything_ to give him as a gift.

I mean, it's not like it's a _significant_ birthday. He's thirty-two today. Who cares about thirty-two? It's not a coming-of-age, or a round number, or something like that. Next year, maybe, first because two threes is kind of cool, and also in those weird fantasy books that Dean made me read, the hobbits came of age at thirty-three.

Not that Draco's a _hobbit_. Though there's that old saw about the size of a man's feet relating to the size of his cock, and, well, never mind about that.

So what _can_ I give him? We don't stint ourselves in how we live. Pretty much anything that we want, we can buy, between what I inherited, his trust funds, and what we earn. Even putting some Galleons aside for Teddy Lupin, money has never been an issue.

He has an almost-new broomstick, more robes than will fit in his wardrobe, and every kind of kinky jewelry you can imagine. We don't need any more furniture or artwork or even commemorative teacups -- the china hutch is overflowing already.

Maybe the best present I can give him is just _me_?

* * *

_Dear Draco,_

_IOU one day of doing whatever you like... and I do mean whatever. Happy birthday! _

_Love,_  
 _Harry_


	87. A Lack of Virtue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting is hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Draco, Harry/Lucius, implied infidelity. For felaine, who wanted something in the Harry/Draco/Lucius series. As usual this is intended to stand alone. Prompt 40, "hell".

Harry doesn't believe in hell. The Dursleys only went to church twice a year -- Christmas and Easter, at St Barnabas's -- and Harry was usually left at home. His religious education, therefore, was negligible, and nothing he has experienced since has made him more inclined toward the Church of England… or any other religion for that matter.

Nevertheless, he thinks, what he is going through now is at least an approximation of hell as commonly understood. Since Draco left Harry's flat six days ago, Harry has heard nothing from him, nothing at all; nor has Lucius contacted him either.

Patience is no doubt a virtue, but Harry doesn't feel very virtuous at the moment. Rather the contrary. He has written and torn up a dozen letters, paced around his living room for hours at a go, and tried drinking half a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. All he's succeeded in doing is to fill his wastebasket, wear a visible path on his carpet, and develop a pounding headache.

This might as well be hell. He _could_ call it limbo, but that seems too neutral a word. Until Draco tells him something, Harry is going to remain half-crazy with uncertainty, made worse by the fact that he knows it's his own fault, first for having affairs (if that is the right word) with both Lucius and Draco, second for deciding that he wanted to stay with them both, and third for actually telling them. Surely other people don't get themselves into such complicated situations?

Harry scowls and pours himself a glass of pumpkin juice, hoping it will alleviate the firewhisky headache. He considers trying again to write a letter to Draco, but every previous one has either sounded too abject or too self-justifying. He hasn't come up with any way to say better how he feels than he did when he last saw Draco.

Six days. Only six days. He can wait longer than this, he assures himself. If only Draco will decide that he can cope with Harry loving Lucius as well as Draco, Harry can wait as long as necessary.


	88. Hero Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dennis is in love with Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dennis/Harry (perhaps unrequited). Prompt 52, "because". For kaellite who asked for this pairing for the prompt.

Because Colin came home from his first year at Hogwarts with something like a thousand pictures that had Harry Potter in them, looking embarrassed but still smiling.

Because Harry didn't treat Dennis any differently from the older students, even his friends, when Dennis and Colin joined Dumbledore's Army.

Because Colin had sneaked back into Hogwarts to fight Voldemort and never came back home again.

Because Harry wrote a letter to the Creevey family to say how sorry he was, mentioning Colin's bravery, and Dennis's accomplishments in the D.A.

For all these reasons and more... Dennis is in love with Harry.


	89. Thunderbolt City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry should be frightened, but he's not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie/Harry, for aunty_marion who requested the pairing. The title is pinched from a line in _Four Weddings and a Funeral_. Prompt 57, "lightning".

The rain had plastered Harry’s hair to his head, and even with the _Impervius_ spell he could hardly see through his glasses, but he was laughing as he landed his broom next to Charlie's.

"That was wicked!" he said across a boom of thunder.

"What?" Charlie's face was illuminated by yet another lightning flash.

"Wicked!" Harry repeated, sweeping his arm towards the dark sky. "I've never flown in a storm like that before."

He hadn't been frightened by it, though doubtless he should have been.

"You're mad!" Charlie laughed. 

"I know." Harry grinned at him. "But you love me anyhow."


	90. Sacrificed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry cannot overcome the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For aome, who asked for Harry/anyone. Prompt 62, "forget."

It's no good.

Harry knows this but he doesn't want to admit it even to himself, much less to Ginny. The thought of her helped him hold on during that last dreadful year before Voldemort's defeat; she was a talisman for him when things seemed darkest, a living vibrant hope for a better world someday.

But he cannot forget.

Too many sacrifices, too many trials, too many traumas. He wakes up sweating and shaking, to rise and take his broomstick and go flying through the damp night for endless hours.

It's not fair.

His heart breaks when he says goodbye.


	91. Part of the Collection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slughorn's collection of photos includes one that surprises Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Cruisedirector who asked for Harry & Tom Riddle, not shippy. Prompt 3, "picture".

The picture stood on one of Professor Slughorn's tables, half-hidden behind another in which a beaming Slughorn stood with the McCormack family: Catriona and Meghan in their deep purple Pride of Portree robes, and Kirley holding his guitar.

Harry ignored the waving Quidditch players to lean forward and look more closely at the smaller photograph. A strikingly good-looking young man ran long fingers through his dark hair and smiled up at Harry. He looked familiar, somehow, but it took a moment for Harry to recognize Tom Riddle.

He picked up the photograph with trembling hands. For a moment he thought of dropping it, smashing the glass and damaging the image, scarring Riddle's handsome face. It would make this likeness from the past in some sense closer to the reality of Voldemort.

But Slughorn would notice. With a whisper of regret Harry returned the picture to its place on the table, wondering why Slughorn still kept it at all, much less where a visitor could see.


	92. The Announcement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An advert in the _Prophet_ might have caused less fuss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Ginny. For jelazakazone who asked for this pairing. Prompt 84, "deadly".

As ever at the holidays, the Burrow was full of cheerful confusion. Every Weasley was present, even Percy and Charlie, and all were talking, laughing, drinking hot butterbeer or pumpkin juice, eating one of Molly's delicious spicy biscuits.

After three attempts at getting everyone's attention, Harry gave up.

" _If you don't mind._ "

The words boomed out, louder than he had intended. The entire room suddenly fell deadly quiet. Harry flushed and adjusted the Sonorus spell.

"Ginny and I have something to tell everyone. Ginny?"

Smiling, Ginny said, "Harry and I are going to be married at Midsummer."

The wave of congratulations that roared over them almost made Harry wish they had taken out an advertisement in _The Daily Prophet_ instead.


	93. Mistakes Were Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingsley reassures Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Kingsley. For secretsolitaire who asked for this pairing. Prompt 53, "wander".

"Don't let it get you down, Harry," said Kingsley softly. "Sometimes they get away, no matter how good our plans are."

"But I _should've_ caught him," Harry insisted. "I mean, for _Borgin_ to escape? Maybe everyone was right, maybe I'm too young to be an Auror. I never had the full training…"

Five quick steps brought Kingsley to Harry's side. "You have more real experience against Dark wizards than half the Aurors who've been in the department for a decade. Don't underestimate yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, and as they go, yours was minor. We'll find Borgin again and catch him next time."

Harry sighed. "I suppose so. At least I shouldn't have to wander around Heidelberg pretending to be a Harriers fan again, right?"

"Right." Kingsley hugged him. "You're really more the Cannons type."

"The Cannons? That's Ron, not me," Harry protested, before he realised that Kingsley was teasing him.


	94. Hatred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Severus ever saw Harry Potter, he hated him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Severus, if you squint hard. For alisanne, who asked for this pairing. Prompt 64, "before".

Before Severus ever saw Harry Potter, he hated him.

Harry was living proof that Lily's friendship was gone forever. Proof that once again, James Potter had triumphed. 

Proof that Severus had failed.

His first sight of Harry did nothing to change his mind. No son should look that much like his father. That Harry had his mother's eyes only made Severus's resentment greater.

Year by year his antipathy grew, fuelled by Harry's reckless behaviour and chronic insubordination.

Only when he gave up his memories to Harry did Severus realise that love for the mother had become love for the son.


	95. Love Abides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius waits to learn his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, Harry/Draco, implied infidelity. For felaine, who wanted something in the Draco/Harry/Lucius series. As usual this is intended to stand alone, and it is (probably) the wrap-up of the series. Prompt 14, "inside".

At my age, and with my past, you would think that I should have learned to be patient by now, but tonight patience seems as unreachable as the moon.

The wind roars. Birch branches lash at the windows. Were they not strengthened by spells, they might break, spilling the wildness of the night inside to where I pace on the green velvet of the carpet in my library.

Harry told me that he was writing to Draco, explaining matters. I wonder if my son will understand, will believe, will accept what has happened. Even to me the situation is unlikely. When I offered Harry anything he wanted, as recompense for having saved Draco's life, I never expected him to demand that I teach him how to have sex with another man. Still less did I imagine that I would—let me be honest—learn to love him.

And if that were not enough, to find that his purpose was to seduce my own son!

But evidently Lady Fortune smiles not only on Harry, but on those around him as well, since he has confessed that he returns my emotions, though he loves Draco too. Hence the letter. Hence my disquiet until I learn what the outcome will be.

A house-elf brings me a glass of whisky, and I have to restrain myself from gulping the contents and requesting more. If Harry should come here tonight I want all my wits about me, in case my son refuses Harry's request to continue both relationships. I would, were I Draco. He has forgiven me much already, but this… this might be more than he can take.

I pick up my battered copy of _Hélas, Je me suis Transfiguré mes Pieds_ and leaf through it, but for once the antics of Grenouille and Crapaud cannot hold my attention. My treacherous mind keeps returning to Harry, presenting me with image after image of him: sprawling unselfconsciously on rumpled sheets; sitting with a cheeky grin, sideways in my best armchair; opening his mouth in ecstasy as he comes inside my body. Merlin. I take another swallow of whisky and adjust my robes.

"Sir?"

"What?" I snap at the elf.

"There is a visitor. Harry Potter, sir."

"Well, show him in at once!"

I breathe in deeply, willing myself to calm. I have to expect the worst, that Draco will not accept Harry's ongoing liaison with me, that when forced to make a choice, Harry will choose Draco. I move towards the windows and stand facing the night, the wild wind. The darkness outside makes the glass into a mirror that reflects the room behind me.

The door opens and Harry enters. His expression is somber. I sigh inwardly as he crosses to stand behind me, puts his arms about me.

"Lucius…" he murmurs.

I turn in his embrace and tilt my head down to kiss him one last time, using every subtle technique I have to convey the emotions I will never be able to express again.

When the kiss ends, his green eyes hold my gaze fast. The door opens again and Draco steps in. My son has the nerve to smirk at me.

"All is well, Lucius," Harry says, breaking into a smile. "All is well."


	96. More Things in Heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly Harry's not in the Leaky Cauldron any more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter, Frodo Baggins. For espresso_addict who thought Frodo might give Harry interesting advice. I'm not sure that this qualifies as "interesting advice" but I hope it's an interesting situation, at least. The title is, of course, from _Hamlet_ , act I, scene 5. Prompt 58, "spirit".

Maybe someone _really_ spiked the butterbeer? Because this place doesn't look familiar at all. The last I remember, I was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron having a pint and reminiscing with George. He got all misty, and now, poof, he's gone and I'm in a totally different pub altogether.

I look around cautiously. It's darker in here than the Leaky, but there seem to be a lot of children, so maybe it's not a pub after all?

No, wait. They're _not_ children. Some of them have _beards_. And the short ones without beards all have enormous feet. _Bare_ feet. _Hairy_ bare feet.

Something about that tickles the back of my mind. I take a swallow from the pint glass in front of me—beer, not butterbeer, but it's not bad—and think hard. Merlin. Big hairy bare feet. They're _hobbits_. And the other short people must be dwarves. There are some bigger folks, my size, as well.

Am I dreaming? Or did George play one of his more involved practical jokes on me and somehow dump me into a movie set? I heard that there was a remake of _The Lord of the Rings_ in the works, and that's what this seems to be… except that there aren't any cameras that I can see, and this all looks too real to be a movie set.

I must be dreaming. At least the beer is good, right?

There's a stir at the bar and then one of the little people, the hobbits, moves in my direction.

"Frodo Baggins, at your service," he says, setting his glass down on my table and hoisting himself into a chair.

"Er. Harry Potter, at yours," I reply.

That seems to be the right thing to say, because Frodo smiles. "Welcome to the Prancing Pony."

"Is that where I am?"

"Well… near enough. The real thing is long, long gone, but a few of us chipped in for this re-creation." He looks around with satisfaction. "It was always a good place to meet travellers and learn the latest news, you understand, and old Barliman Butterbur makes everyone welcome, the little folk and the big alike."

"All right," I say doubtfully. "But, er, aren't you dead? Or something?" I vaguely remember that Frodo sailed west at the end of the books, but what happened to him after that is unclear in my memory. "And why am _I_ here? I'm from the real world, and Middle-earth is just a story."

Now he laughs. "Do you think I'm some kind of ghost or spirit, or imaginary creature? Poke me."

I do. He feels solid to me. Real.

"I don't understand." My voice sounds more plaintive than I would like.

"We're _both_ real. Or both fiction. Whichever you prefer to think of yourself as; it doesn't really matter." Frodo nods at my glass. "Can I get you another?"

I hesitate before agreeing. Frodo hops down and takes both our glasses away, bringing them back refilled.

"Thanks." The beer goes down smoothly. "This is very good."

"Gandalf's enchantment," Frodo confides. "Strider talked him into it, or so he claims, but I think Gandalf was happy for the excuse. He was always fonder of both ale and pipeweed than he wanted anyone to notice."

"Gandalf," I repeat, my head spinning. "So I _am_ in Middle-earth."

"No, you're in the afterlife." He shrugs. "Heaven, Valhalla, Annwn, Elysium… whatever you want to call it. The Hall of Heroes."

So now I know where I am, I guess, but it still doesn't make any sense, except that apparently I'm dead.

Frodo apparently senses my confusion, because he adds, "It's meant to be a reward. Not everyone ends up here, obviously." He gestures around the room. "The inn isn't nearly large enough. There are others, of course, and we can move between them as we like, and visit the places where those who are not heroes go too."

"So heaven is a kind of city?" I ask, trying to understand. "With different neighbourhoods, and locals, and so forth?"

"More or less. You'll understand after you've been here a while," says Frodo.

"And it has fictional characters too?"

"No. We're _all_ real, Harry. That was hard for Sam to understand too. Out there," he waves his hand, "where you came from, you saw that as reality, and so my world for you is fiction. But for me, it's the opposite. _My_ world is real, and _you're_ fiction, and so are Ged, and Rand al'Thor, and Lessa, and Taran, and Paksenarrion, and…"

"I've never even heard of any of those people," I say. "Except Taran. I think. He sounds kind of familiar."

Frodo nods. "The Prydain Chronicles. Taran and Eilonwy drop in here from time to time. Her bauble is similar to Galadriel's phial that helped me in Mordor, you know."

I finish my beer. "So everything in books is actually real?"

"Pretty much. It's rather fun once you get used to it, especially since, being now beyond death, you don't have to worry about it. I've had some good conversations with Sméagol, for instance. Gollum," he adds when I don't recognise the name.

"So the villains are here too, as well as the heroes?"

"No. Nothing truly evil gets to this place. Sméagol's sacrifice redeemed him, or so Gandalf explained it to me. But Sauron's not here, or your Lord Voldemort, or any such."

"I think I need another drink," I say under my breath. "This is all, er, rather unexpected."

"I know how you feel," says Frodo. "It took me a while to get used to it myself. I'm not sure why you ended up here, exactly—not that you're not welcome!—since there are a few of your people around already, and generally folks end up mostly with their book-kindred, as we call them. Maybe Dobby suggested it. He's quite the character and often visits. There aren't any true elves about, you know, since they are bound to Middle-earth and don't die as we mortals do, so house-elves are as close to elves as you'll see. Not very close at all."

"No," I agree, remembering a little now about the elves of Middle-earth.

"But listen. My advice to you now would be to take a room—Barliman has plenty for folk your size—and get some rest, and we'll talk more in the morning. I can take you on a bit of a tour if you'd like."

"That would be wonderful," I say gratefully. I hold out my hand. Frodo clasps it, and I notice the missing finger.

This may be heaven, but I think I'm glad to know that not everything is perfect here. Perfection would be awfully dull.


	97. Love Me Two Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something behind Harry's humming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For alisanne, who asked for this pairing. The title is (obviously) from the Doors song! Prompt 39, "double."

"Er, Harry?"

"What?" Harry looked up from the thick file he was reading.

"You're doing it again. Humming," said Draco.

"Sorry," Harry apologised. "I didn't realise I was."

"I know." Draco sighed. "You never do."

"Just a few more pages and I'll quit for tonight. I need to get this read through before tomorrow though. I'm lead on the case and my team will be going to Romania the next day."

"Romania?" Draco's voice scaled up. " _This_ Thursday?"

"Well, yes." Harry looked over his glasses at Draco. "I'm sorry I couldn't let you know sooner, but it only just came up this morning."

"Harry. It's not the lack of notice I object to so much—after all these years I'm used to that, even if I don't like it—it's the _date_. Our anniversary?"

"It isn't," said Harry blankly. "That's not till June."

"It's June _now_ , Harry. Thursday is June 24. Our fifteenth anniversary."

"Oh, nogtails' nuts. I can't believe I forgot…"

"Again," said Draco grimly.

"Again," Harry agreed. "But there's no way I can change the schedule on this, Draco, I'm sorry. Word came down from Kingsley on this one. But I'll make it up to you."

"How?"

Harry smiled their private smile. "Just as soon as I finish reading," he promised, "I'll meet you in the bedroom."

Draco had to smile back. "Twenty minutes?"

"Make it twenty-five," Harry said, "just to be on the safe side."

As he waited, Draco found himself humming the same tune that had so bothered him earlier. One of the Muggle oldies that Harry so liked, he knew, and eventually he put words to it.

_Love me two times, baby_  
Love me twice today  
Love me two times, girl  
I'm goin' away  
Love me two times, girl  
One for tomorrow  
One just for today  
Love me two times  
I'm goin' away 

Draco sighed. Except for the "girl" part, it now made perfect sense that Harry had had that tune in his head. At least Draco would get something out of it… and he'd be sure to have something extra-special planned for Harry's return.


	98. Taking Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is restless and pays an impromptu visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Lucius, consensual infidelity. For felaine who asked if I could try for one more in this series. Prompt 37, "spring."

Harry can't sit still. Something about the season, he thinks: springtime, new life, new beginnings.

He's having a new beginning himself, one that he wouldn't have even imagined a year ago. Quickly he scrawls a note to leave on the kitchen table.

_D—_  
Going flying. Back by dinner.  
Love,  
H 

Draco is still in their bed, asleep. Harry smiles as he pictures the way Draco's long body curls into a comma, hands drawn in toward his face, lips parted. Normally Harry would wait and fly with Draco, of course, but Draco is having lunch with several other old Slytherins, and Harry wasn't invited. Didn't _want_ to be.

So he's going to fly, which sounds much more enjoyable than listening to Pansy and Blaise and whoever else Draco will be meeting.

He's been diligent about maintaining his Firebolt and it is still in excellent shape. A quick Invisibility Charm to prevent unwanted Muggle attention, and Harry is off, zooming skyward.

For a while he dives in and out of the clouds, laughing aloud as the droplets hit his face. The wind of his passage soon dries him off and he soars above the billowing white masses, squinting into the sun. He practices some of the manoeuvres he used to use as Seeker, just for fun, but without a Snitch to play with it's hard to tell how he's doing.

The sun is just beginning to decline from noon when Harry realises where his subconscious has taken him. He swoops past Stonehenge and its crowd of Muggle visitors and veers north.

"Is Mr Malfoy at home?" he asks the house-elf who answers the door. Belatedly, he worries that Narcissa might be there too.

"Tabby will see, Harry Potter, sir. Harry Potter will please wait here," the elf squeaks and scurries off.

It returns in a few minutes and takes Harry's broom, placing it carefully aside before leading Harry to Lucius's study.

"Have you had lunch?" Lucius asks as Harry enters.

Harry shakes his head.

"Lunch for two, here. One hour," Lucius tells the elf. After it leaves, he looks at Harry. "What brings you here today? Not that I'm not delighted to see you, but…"

"Oh, Draco's having lunch with some of his old friends, and I was restless, so I thought I'd do some flying and ended up here," Harry says. "I hoped you'd be around and not busy."

Lucius shrugs. "I was going over some papers. Nothing that can't wait."

"In that case…" Harry gives him a slow smile. "You told Tabby an hour until lunch."

"I did." Lucius flicks his wand at the door. Harry hears the click as the lock turns. "Come here."

Harry tilts his head back as Lucius's lips travel down his neck, breath warm on Harry's wind-chilled skin. He presses his body against the older man's. Draco knows about his father and Harry, has said that he doesn't mind, but there's still a little bit of illicit thrill in coming to Lucius on the spur of the moment like this, without Draco's awareness that he is doing so today.

Lucius is the one who taught Harry most of what he knows about sex, as part of the bargain they made when Lucius insisted he had to repay Harry for saving Draco's life. Neither of them expected that emotion would enter into the arrangement, but it did. Since Harry's intention all along had been to get involved with Draco—he just wanted to have some experience first—matters became complicated.

Thankfully Draco is neither possessive nor jealous. He has even hinted once or twice that the three of them might enjoy a mutual encounter, but Harry hasn't decided if he is comfortable with that yet, and he hasn't mentioned it to Lucius.

"I've missed you," Lucius says, pulling Harry down with him onto the green velvet sofa. He kisses Harry again and again until Harry is breathless, writhing with need.

"You top this time," says Harry, and sees the responding spark in Lucius's grey eyes.

"Let me just…" Lucius puts an _Engorgio_ charm on the sofa first, followed by _Lubricio_. Harry feels the slickness of his arse as Lucius peels away their robes. He gives Harry a playful swat. "Ready?"

"Oh, yes. Yes!" A keening moan comes from Harry's throat as Lucius penetrates him. It's strange, how different Lucius and Draco feel, though to outward appearances their cocks are nearly identical. Maybe it is Lucius's greater experience. It's not that one is _better_ than the other, but Harry is sure he would know who is who even if he were blindfolded.

"You feel so good," Lucius pauses to bite at Harry's neck, "so—very—good." His thrusts are slow, measured, and his hand finds Harry's bollocks, caressing them first before he wraps his fingers around Harry's prick.

"So do you," Harry says with a gasp as Lucius's fingernail tickles his slit. "Oh, _fuck_ yes."

Part of Harry wants to beg Lucius to move faster, not to tease, but most of him wants this to last as long as possible. Lucius appears to feel the same way, keeping to the same leisurely pace in his motions of both hips and hand. Harry falls into a daze of sensation, his nerves throbbing. It's like the best moments of flying, when everything seems effortless and perfect and joyful.

"Harry…" Lucius's voice rasps in Harry's ear.

"Yes, now, _now_ , Lucius," Harry responds, and at last Lucius speeds up, his fingers rapid on Harry's yearning prick, until Harry comes messily on the green velvet, his arse clenching, wrenching the orgasm from Lucius as well.

"Mm. That was wonderful," says Harry a few moments later, turning in Lucius's embrace and brushing the long strands of damp fair hair away from Lucius's face.

Lucius stretches, his joints popping. "Wonderful indeed," he agrees, although his expression is more reserved than his words would suggest.

This is one of those moments when Harry wonders if he is being unfair to Lucius, if Lucius wouldn't be happier out of this strange relationship. But surely, if that were so, Lucius would say something. He's used to power, used to taking control of his own life, and he could certainly tell Harry if he wanted to break things off.

So for now Harry takes the words at face value. Before Tabby returns with their meal, they get dressed and Harry restores the sofa to its usual size. Lucius inquires after Draco, and what Harry is doing at work, and mentions that Narcissa is having a fitting at Madam Malkin's that day. He offers Harry a glass of Ogden's, but Harry wants to fly home, so he opts for butterbeer instead.

"Dinner Wednesday next," Harry reminds Lucius before he leaves. They have a standing fortnightly date for dinner, alternating who chooses the restaurant and arranges for a room afterward. Sometimes they go to Harry and Draco's flat, sometimes to Malfoy Manor, but only when Draco or Narcissa, respectively, will be away. However tolerant and accepting Draco is, Harry isn't ready to flaunt his relationship with Draco's father quite yet, and he hasn't inquired as to whether Narcissa knows anything or not—that is Lucius's business to deal with.

"It's your turn to 'host' this time," says Lucius. "Owl me when you've decided where."

"I will." Harry gives Lucius one more kiss and swings his leg over his broom.

He flies home through the spring evening sky, brilliant with more stars than he's ever noticed before. Dinner with Draco awaits.


	99. Hold Him to It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry unexpectedly meets up with a fellow former Gryffindor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry/Cormac. For koshweasley who requested Cormac. Prompt 9, "bound."

"Hullo, Harry." The voice was rich and deep, with a hint of sexy growl. Just the kind of voice that sent a delightful shiver down Harry's spine.

His shoulders tightened instinctively at the greeting nevertheless. While there were occasional benefits to being famous throughout the wizarding world, they were greatly outweighed by the disadvantages, one of which was being recognized and importuned by everyone and his Crup. He repressed a sigh and turned.

To his surprise, the man standing beside his table was someone he knew. Not _well_ , and indeed his feelings toward Cormac McLaggen had always been less than fond. Being hit on the head with a beater's bat wasn't something that would exactly endear the hitter to the one thus walloped. But still, he did _know_ Cormac, which was a plus. Cormac was unlikely to be asking for financial support for a new business, or for a charitable donation, or even for an autograph.

"Cormac," said Harry. He hesitated only an instant before adding, "Have a seat." At least that ought to prevent anyone else from coming up and bothering him.

"Thanks." Cormac set down his glass—butterbeer by the look of it; Harry approved—and slid onto the bench seat. "I don't mean to interrupt you, I expect you're waiting for someone, I just wanted to greet a fellow old Gryffindor."

"No worries. I'm _not_ meeting anyone, actually, just here for a butterbeer before I go home." Harry shrugged, not wanting to explain that even though being in public could get annoying, loneliness in his flat was sometimes worse.

"I see. Same here," said Cormac. "Er. Look. I know it's awfully late in the day, but I did want to apologize to you… for that Quidditch game, you know, when I hit you over the head, and lost the match for us." He had the grace to look embarrassed as he spoke. "I was a complete git and there was no excuse for it."

"It's all right," Harry said, embarrassed in his turn. "Gryffindor won the Cup anyhow."

"Still." Cormac took a swallow of his butterbeer. "It's bothered me for a long time, so, I'm sorry."

"Forgotten," said Harry firmly. "Honestly. Don't give it another thought."

He watched Cormac's throat move as he finished his drink. "Can I buy you another?"

Cormac's eyes widened. "Are you sure?"

"Why not?" Harry rose and picked up both glasses. "I'll be right back."

Butterbeer might not be alcoholic, but Harry found himself talking easily with Cormac over their second glasses, and then their third.

"Can I ask you something?" said Cormac eventually. "I mean, it might be out of bounds."

"You can ask, I don't promise to answer," said Harry.

"Would you, er, would you like to have dinner with me sometime? It needn't be tonight if you don't want." Cormac's face had gone slightly pink.

Oh, that stupid article from _The Daily Prophet_. Not that it wasn't _true_ , but… On the other hand, Cormac hadn't been acting like someone who would brag about pulling Harry Potter, and Harry hadn't fancied anyone else in ages. Not that he would say he _fancied_ Cormac—not yet—but Cormac _was_ attractive enough to provoke Harry's interest. And with that voice…

"Why not tonight?" Harry kept his tone light. "But let's go somewhere else besides the Leaky. There's a great Muggle chip shop near my flat; we could get a takeaway."

Cormac's eyes shone. "Whatever you like, Harry."

"I'll hold you to that," Harry said. He was only half joking, which Cormac seemed to realize.

"You can hold me to anything you want," Cormac said. "I owe you that… and I look forward to it."


	100. Skirmish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trying to reach a D.A. meeting, Harry encounters one of the Inquisitorial Squad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Millicent. For espresso_addict who suggested Millicent Bulstrode. Prompt 80, "while."

Harry glanced along the corridor and his heart sank. Even from a distance he was sure that the other person was _not_ a member of the D.A.—by now he knew them all fairly well—and as the figure moved closer, he recognized Millicent Bulstrode.

"Potter." Millicent sneered. "Here to while away your time in front of the tapestry again? You're as barmy as Barnabas was."

Harry mumbled something extremely unflattering under his breath.

"What was that?" demanded Millicent.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Harry asked in return.

Millicent reached out one beefy arm and pushed him against the wall. "No, Potter, I don't. You'd better watch your step."

Gritting his teeth, Harry reminded himself that challenging one of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad was worse than useless. He might well win the skirmish but lose the war, so to speak.

"Thanks, I will," he said in a falsely pleasant voice. "Any other advice for me?"

She gave him another shove and let go.

"Just watch it. Because _we're_ watching _you_."

Harry remained in place as Millicent backed away. When she had turned the corner, he hurried three times past the tapestry and entered the Room of Requirement with relief.


	101. Could It Ever Have Been Different?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twenty-three years after the war, Harry gets an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Remus, general. For snegurochka_lee who has always been fond of Remus. The title is taken from the Pink Floyd song "A New Machine – Part I." Prompt 28, "final."

"What the… _Remus_?"

Harry's glass fell unheeded to the rug, spilling Firewhisky everywhere.

"Hello, Harry."

Remus's voice was even hoarser than Harry remembered, and his hair was entirely grey, but there was no mistaking him.

"But you're dead. Years ago. I saw you buried. Not that… I mean, it's fantastic that you're here, but…" Harry babbled. "No, wait a minute. Is it _really_ you? "

"It's really me." Remus gave a twisted smile. "In the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class I taught you, Dean Thomas's boggart turned into a severed hand, and Padma Parvati's was a mummy."

Harry thought hard and nodded. "That's right, they were. Merlin. It is you. But how can you be alive _now_ , after twenty-three years? I don't understand."

"Could I have a drink?" Remus sank into the nubbly red armchair as though his legs would no longer hold him up.

"Of course." Harry cleaned up the spilled whisky with a flick of his wand first, then refilled his own glass and gave Remus a fresh one.

"Thanks." Remus took an enormous swallow and sighed. "I've been alive the whole time. Werewolves are hard to kill permanently. Decapitation or burning the corpse is the best way to ensure we won't return."

"You were buried alive?" asked Harry, horrified.

Remus nodded. "I transformed at the first full moon after the battle and clawed my way out, but I was tremendously weakened, and of course my wand wasn't put in the coffin. Do you know whatever happened to it?"

"I think Teddy has it," said Harry. "Hang on. What have you been doing for the past twenty-three years? Why didn't you let us—let _Teddy_ , and Tonks's parents—know you were alive?"

"I…" Remus bowed his head and was silent for a few moments. "You called me a coward once, Harry, and you were right. I couldn't… couldn't face them. Better for Teddy to think I was dead, perhaps even a hero, than have me around."

Harry started to object, but realizing it was pointless, held his tongue. If Remus had kept himself hidden for all those years, Harry's protests weren't going to make any difference.

"So why are you here now?" he asked instead.

"I don't know, really." Remus finished his whisky and looked up again, his eyes distant. "I suppose I just became too lonely to keep on. I've been living in… well, it doesn't matter. A Muggle town, without any wizarding folk at all. I had a job as a building cleaner."

"You're not going back to that," said Harry. "No. You can stay here in Grimmauld Place with me. I want you to," he added fiercely when Remus seemed about to demur. "There's plenty of room. Sirius would have wanted you to stay too."

"I'd only be in your way, Harry."

"Not at all. I live here alone since Ginny and I split up, a couple of years ago, and the kids are all out on their own too."

"You have children?" Remus looked pleased.

Of course, there was no way he could have known.

"Three," said Harry, unable to keep the pride from his voice. "James Sirius, Albus Severus, and Lily Luna. There's a picture of them on the mantel."

Remus rose, his bones creaking, and crossed the room to look. The picture was from only a year before, and the three waved happily as Remus peered into the frame. "They look wonderful. Congratulations, Harry."

"Thanks." Harry took a breath. "If you want to know about Teddy… he's doing well. I see him every couple of weeks. He's working as a wand-maker and engaged to Bill and Fleur's daughter Victoire."

"I'm happy to hear that," said Remus, sitting down again.

"Don't you want to see him for yourself?" Harry couldn't help asking.

Remus shook his head. "He's never known me. I wouldn't want to push into his life now."

"Don't be ridiculous. Teddy'd be over the moon," Harry winced as soon as he said the infelicitous phrase, "to know you're alive, to get to meet you at last. I'm sure of that."

"Well, maybe. I'll think about it," Remus said. He paused, chewing on his lip. "Harry."

"What?"

"Forgive me for not coming back sooner. I simply… I couldn't, that's all. It seemed so much easier to drift into the Muggle world, forget who and what I was except for one day each month. A coward, as you said."

"Don't. I was wrong. You fought like hell when it came to the point," said Harry.

Shrugging, Remus said, "That was easy for me. Fighting. Facing the day-to-day has always been a much harder struggle."

Harry made an annoyed sound. "Have it your way. I'm glad you're back, I just wish you hadn't waited so long, wasted so much time."

"For 'time all things devours,'" Remus quoted softly. "Oh, don't worry, Harry. I have no plans to live as a Muggle any longer. For one thing, as I get older, the transformation each month becomes worse. I'm less safe to be around than I ever was, even taking every precaution I can. No, this is the end for me, the final phase."

"The final phase?" repeated Harry uneasily. "What do you mean?"

Remus gave a hoarse chuckle. "I'm getting old, that's all. Werewolves may be hard to kill, but we also don't usually reach old age. The physical strain on the body is too much. I don't expect I have many years left."

"However many years you have, you'll spend them here, with me, with Teddy, with all the people who have cared for you," Harry said. His mind was already buzzing with possibilities for helping Remus. Hermione, he had to talk with Hermione, whose campaigns to promote equal rights for all magical creatures had been mostly successful over the decades. And Al's N.E.W.T. in Potions—surely he could duplicate, even improve on, the Wolfsbane potion that Snape had used to brew for Remus.

"As you wish." Remus's head sagged forward, then jerked back.

"You're exhausted. Come on, I think James's old room has the bed made up."

Harry held out his hand for Remus to pull himself up, then hugged him tightly. Letting go, he pretended not to see the moisture on Remus's cheeks as he led him upstairs to sleep.


End file.
